Somewhere With You
by blue.rose.spobette
Summary: After the break-up (2x12), Toby leaves Rosewood. But not without a promise: should they ever meet again, he will fight for her. No matter who tries to interfere. Fate will always bring you back to the one you love. (PART I of Spoby Trilogy)
1. Prologue

**Somewhere With You - Prologue**

_One-way flight from Pittsburg Airport to Fort Bragg, North Carolina._

No matter how many times he repeated the itinerary in his head, he still struggled to accept its conditions. When he enlisted a week prior, it had seemed like the perfect solution. Now, he was beginning to doubt his decision.

He took one last look around his room, marveling at how it had already begun to feel like a stranger's home. His parents had already begun to renovate the area, highly anticipating its conversion to an in-home gym. It was disconcerting, really, how little disappointment they had shown about his leaving.

"You're doing this for a reason," Toby mumbled to himself reassuringly. "There's nothing left for you here."

It was the truth.

School at Rosewood had always been somewhat of a dilemma, what with the legal investigations and circulating rumors. His step-sibling relationship with Jenna had grown considerably more toxic since he began taking a stand.

And Spencer...

Well, Spencer had made it very clear that she wanted nothing to do with him. She didn't trust him, and insisted that this impasse indicated the need for separation. He must have called and texted her a million times. He had even tried to stop by her house. But for some god-forsaken reason, she refused to speak to him. And truth be told, it tore his heart into a million pieces. She had been the first person he had truly trusted in his life; the one person who didn't view him as a terror, or a villain.

So much for _that_.

He absent-mindedly scrolled through his call log. It had been a few days since he had attempted to contact her. He was trying to make it a point to spread the calls fewer and farther between, so as to make a clean break for himself. He wanted to say good-bye more than anything...But it would only complicate things further. And he had the distinct feeling that he was the last person she'd want to see, anyway.

His finger hovered over the "call" button. He weighed his options.

And then he went for it.

One ring. Two rings.

"Hello?"

"Hey...Long time no talk," he muttered nervously. "I need to ask you a favor."

A pause on the other end. Then a resigned sigh. "Sure. Whatever you need."

"Can you meet me at the Apple Rose Grille? It's important."

Another short pause. "Yeah...now?"

"Now."

"I'll meet you there."

"Thanks...You're the best, Em." He ended the call and finally exhaled, knowing what had to be done. He hastily gathered his things, deciding that the Grille would be his last stop on the way to the airport.

Traipsing down the stairs, he studied the pictures adorning the walls. They were mostly of his father and step-mother, even Jenna; very few of his own were to be found. He internalized this as further affirmation of his decision.

He paused at the front door and took one last nostalgic look around the house. "This is it," he muttered to himself. And with that, he was out the door.

* * *

><p>"The army?" Emily demanded in whisper, as though she had spoken a curse word. "What on earth possessed you to do this?"<p>

"It's just...the right thing," Toby offered simply, feeling quite pathetic in his response. It was hard to articulate the instinct to anyone else. It was truly just a primitive drive.

Emily sighed, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Have you talked to Spencer?"

_Slash_. Every time he heard her name, it was another lashing to his heart.

"No. Does she know you're here?" he inquired, tapping his fingers anxiously on his coffee mug.

"No, of course not," Emily protested. "She'd kill me."

Toby smiled somberly, knowing this to be true.

"Well...do you plan on talking to her before you go?" Emily inquired, craning her neck to get a closer look into his eyes.

Toby squared his jaw. "No. She doesn't want to see me."

"I think this would be an exception," Emily insisted, her panic intensifying.

"It's not up for discussion, Em," Toby declined politely. He fished inside his jacket for the item he knew to be tucked safely away within. He unveiled it and presented it to Emily. "This is a letter I wrote for her. Make sure she gets it. Okay?"

Emily studied it carefully. Without averting her eyes, she mumbled, "Maybe you should-"

"No," Toby interrupted, knowing what her suggestion was going to be. "This is the only way."

Emily began chewing on her bottom lip, making a point to avoid his eyes. "Toby...Seriously...There are things you should know before you do this...Talk to her."

"No," Toby repeated with finality. Frustrated with Emily's resistance of the letter, he placed it on the table in front of her, fishing money out of his pocket to pay for his coffee. He stood up, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder. At long last, she raised her eyes to meet him. He swore he saw the beginnings of tears forming.

"Em," he began softly. "You're my best friend. Please."

At this, she took a deep breath and hesitantly touched the letter in a manner that gave Toby confirmation.

"I'll miss you," he stated simply, planting a brotherly kiss on the top of her dark hair. "Be safe."

When he turned away, he refused to look back. This was it. Period. And nothing was going to delay the inevitable any longer.


	2. New Beginnings

**CHAPTER ONE**

_1 Year and Some Months Later..._

"And don't forget - If you're out late walking around, make sure you bring your pepper spray. Or call a campus escort."

Both teenagers rolled their eyes good-naturedly. "I have it under control, Mom."

"All right." Mrs. Hastings took a deep breath and let it out in a loud gust.

"And be sure to call if money ever becomes tight," Mrs. Marin added, affectionately smoothing down her daughter's cowlick. "I'll do what I can to help out."

"_Mo-om_," Hanna whined. Her childish demeanor ironically contradicted the situation at hand. She stubbornly flattened her own hair. "We'll be fine!"

"Promise to call every weekend?" Mrs. Hastings requested. Spencer was truthfully surprised at her mother's sudden concern.

"Yes," Spencer droned.

"Okay, that's enough, ladies." Mr. Hastings picked up the rental car keys purposefully, attempting to make a statement about the time.

"One last hug," Mrs. Marin decided, wrapping her daughter in a tight embrace. She let out a deep breath to steady her emotions as she pulled away. "I love you."

"I love you too, Mom," Hanna replied, unable to resist the urge to smile.

"We need to leave now if we want to beat rush hour back to the airport," Mr. Hastings pressed.

"All right, we're ready," Mrs. Hastings responded as she and Mrs. Marin retrieved their purses.

"Bye, girls. Good luck! Get good grades!"

"Bye, Mom," Hanna said, mild irritation tainting her voice.

"Be safe," Mr. Hastings added to the growing list of demands. And with that, they were gone.

"_Finally_," Hanna breathed, flopping lazily down onto the couch, kicking off her pumps.

Spencer took a moment to appreciatively take in her surroundings. This was it: the proudest day of her life. Through dedication and hard work, she had earned every penny of her scholarship to the University of Michigan. And here she and Hanna were, in their very own apartment.

Hanna had enrolled in a local community college in the area, insisting that she couldn't bear the thought of Spencer "braving the big city without her." Spencer, well aware that this was Hanna's way of saying "I'll miss you too much if you leave without me," was unbelievably thankful for the companionship. She had dreaded the day in which she would have to say good-bye to her life-long friends. And as much as she knew she would miss Aria and Emily, (who were attending the Pennsylvania Academy for Fine Arts and University of Pittsburg, respectively), the notion of having Hanna at her side was comforting.

"Ugh," Hanna muttered to herself, thumbing through her planner. "Classes start on Thursday. How did that happen so fast?"

Spencer rolled her eyes. "Do we need to go through this again, Han?"

"I know, I know," Hanna dismissed with a careless wave of her hand. "_Here for the education...not for the parties_." As she quoted Spencer's mantra, she turned her nose up distastefully and tossed her planner across the living room frisbee-style.

"Hanna," Spencer began reproachfully, feeling a surge of mild panic at the planner's position on the otherwise spotless floor.

"Oh, relax," Hanna groaned. "It's our first mess. Enjoy the moment."

Spencer laughed bitterly, knowing that Hanna was right. She would certainly have to lower her standards for perfection if she was going to survive. So what if there was a planner in the middle of the floor?

...Right?

"I'm going to take a shower," Spencer announced. Moving all the furniture in the heat had negated this morning's washing, and she felt sweaty and disgusting.

"Have fun," Hanna declared off-handedly, snatching the remote from the coffee table.

As Spencer began making her way towards her bedroom, the ominous planner continued calling out to her, as if a demonic presence was haunting her. She paused beside it, considering.

"Spencer, leave it be," Hanna warned, as if Spencer were a curious two-year old eyeing a hot stove.

She breathed in heavily. Nope. She couldn't force herself to walk away. She picked it up and set it on the coffee table, lining the corner perfectly with the table's surface.

"Oh, God," Hanna groaned. "You're not going to make this easy, are you?"

Spencer knew she was speaking in general about the experience as a whole: college, homework, house-cleaning. And she knew the answer.

"We'll just have to compromise," she said definitively. "I'm letting it sit on the coffee table, aren't I? If I wanted to, I could have put it back in your purse. Right?"

Hanna rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Spence." Her channel surfing had subsided as she decided on re-runs of _90210_. "Go shower."

"Right," Spencer reminded herself, heading once again towards her room. Once inside, she quietly shut the door. She thought distantly about how this may affect Hanna's feelings, but she knew she needed this moment of solitude and silence to soak in the transition.

Her eyes roamed the room, trying to convince her brain that this was her new home. It wasn't as though she wasn't excited to be on her own, but it was taking a certain effort to adjust. The bedroom, in truth, was perfect. Everything was set up according to Spencer's intricate blue print, and all items were in their proper places.

All except the last box she had been hesitating to unpack. In scrawl that she remembered had been written with shaky hands was "_T.C._" She knew what it stood for. And try as she might to dispose of the box before her latest big adventure, she had not been able to part with it. She hadn't looked inside in months for fear of emotional upheaval, but she knew she couldn't let it go.

She slowly approached the box on her bed, tucking hair behind her ears. The urge to explore its contents was overwhelming, though she knew in her heart that it had the potential to ruin this momentous day. She gingerly sat on the immaculately-made bed beside it, running her hands over the packaging tape that kept it sealed.

_Don't do it_, her inner voice reprimanded. _It's not the day._

_Nonsense_, the other voice insisted. _There's nothing wrong with keeping the memories alive._

She had grown weary of the angel-and-devil dichotomy that so often haunted her brain. It made her feel like she had so little control over her own decisions.

As if to silence both voices, she began lifting the tape away and opening the box.

Inside were photographs, gifts, and other reminders of her relationship with Toby Cavanaugh. One item in particular sat on the very top, as it was the most frequently referred-to memory. It was the letter he had written her before his departure. She remembered the day vividly. It was only about a month after the girls had been taken in to police custody for being caught with Ali's murder weapon.

_Rain was coming down in buckets. Spencer hastily threw on her jacket and shoes, cursing herself for leaving her car windows down. Had she had the faintest idea of what the ever-changing forecast had in store, she never would have been so foolish. She had admittedly been distracted, though, as Toby had attempted to phone her as she was pulling into her driveway. With a bleeding heart, she had declined the call._

_She yanked open the door to be met with a natural orchestra of pattering rain. Ducking out of the house into the ominously-darkening outside world, she splashed quickly through mud puddles and wet pavement to reach her vehicle. Thunder rumbled in the distance, as if reminding her that this should be done with haste._

_She nearly slipped upon reaching her car, fumbling with the keys to unlock it._

_"Spencer!"_

_She turned. Emily was jogging over from across the street, donned appropriately in rain boots and a tasteful poncho. She appeared distraught._

_"What is it? Are you okay?" Spencer demanded immediately, fearing the worst for Emily's military father._

_Emily stopped in front of her, blinking away raindrops from her dark eyelashes. She paused. "Spence..."_

_Spencer's heart was beginning to sink. She didn't like the tone of Emily's voice, whatsoever._

_"Spencer, he's gone." As if on cue, another thunderous crack echoed in the woods._

_"What? Is it your dad?" Spencer asked worriedly._

_Emily paused once more as additional water droplets cascaded down her nose and chin._

_"It's Toby."_

_Spencer's stomach flip-flopped violently on the inside. "Is he okay?" she demanded, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. As she waited for a response, Emily was protectively passing a folded note into Spencer's hands._

_"He joined the army. He left a couple hours ago."_

_Spencer felt her mouth dry out._

_"Can...can I still catch him?" she whispered, comforted in knowing that the involuntarily-flowing tears would intermingle with the raindrops on her face, undetected._

_"No," Emily murmured sadly, shaking her head. "He's gone."_

_Spencer's world turned on its belly, suddenly making her insides writhe in confusion. She distantly heard her phone chirp inside her jeans pocket. She yanked it out desperately, hoping subconsciously that it was him..._

_"Who is it?" Emily inquired._

_Spencer sighed dejectedly, handing the phone to Emily, who read the message aloud._

_"**When I told you to keep Toby safe, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind. But bravo, Spencer! Always the over-achiever! - A.**"_

Spencer tenderly fumbled with the letter, unsure of whether or not she wanted to unearth its contents yet again. The day that Toby left was ironically the last message she had ever received from 'A'. She wasn't sure why, but had the distinct feeling that 'A' was finally satisfied that they had officially ruined her life.

With a shaky sigh, she pushed the letter deep into the box, deciding that it was not the time to re-read it. With feigned confidence, she stood and made her way to her dresser, haphazardly yanking out fresh clothes.

It was time for that shower. It would serve several purposes, but none were so appealing to Spencer as the symbolism of a fresh start.


	3. Good Time Charley's

**CHAPTER TWO**

The shower proved to be as refreshing as Spencer had hoped. Upon getting out and re-styling her hair, she felt like a new woman, ready to brave the unknown.

When she emerged into the living room, she found Hanna passed out on the couch from exhaustion. One of her arms hung limply over the side, the remote having fallen from her grasp and onto the floor.

Spencer rolled her eyes good-naturedly and picked up the remote control, replacing it on the coffee table. As she did this, she found herself eyeing the planner suspiciously. _Compromise_, she reminded herself, resisting the urge to put the planner away in Hanna's purse.

Instead, to distract herself, she began pulling out her text books and spreading them across the dining room table. Might as well get a head start before classes commenced. Her Introductory Psychology book looked particularly inviting, so she opened to the first reading assignment of the semester according to the online syllabus.

It was a Freudian chapter.

She groaned inwardly, knowing just what kind of lessons it would entail. Defense mechanisms, such as denial and repression. Two words she was positively not interested in hearing right now. She slammed the heavy book shut with a definitive _THUMP_.

"Huh? What?" Hanna cried out, shooting up into a sitting position on the couch. "Was that a gun shot?"

The corner of Spencer's mouth turned upward in a half-smile. "Hardcover text books. Try taking a look at one someday."

"Ugh," Hanna spat distastefully, stretching. "What's for dinner?"

"We still have to go grocery shopping," Spencer replied, indicating the empty cupboards behind her.

"Yeah, screw that," Hanna decided, waving a hand dismissively in Spencer's direction. She seemed to consider this for a moment before her face lit up. "Let's go out! It's our first night on campus. We might as well look around a bit!"

Spencer sighed. To be honest, she was exhausted. She would have been content to just order a pizza and call it a night. But Hanna had neglected to await a response, and was already putting her pumps back onto her perfectly-pedicured feet.

"Where to?" she muttered in surrender.

"I dunno!" Hanna chirped, suddenly wide-awake. She was shoving her keys and cell phone into her purse. "Let's go, c'mon!"

Spencer, who had not moved from her position at the dining room table, exhaled heavily in frustration, piling her text books and standing.

"Are you wearing that?" Hanna asked suspiciously, indicating Spencer's simple jeans and flannel top.

"Yes, Han," Spencer declared strictly, her stomach suddenly rumbling at the prospect of food. "It's only dinner. I have no one to impress."

"That's what you think _now_," Hanna chimed in a sing-song voice. "But we're about to meet college boys!"

"What about Caleb?" Spencer questioned. Hanna and Caleb had agreed to make the long-distance relationship work, promising to take turns visiting each other one weekend per month.

"I'm talking strictly about college boys for _you_, of course," Hanna corrected. "Are you at least going to put some make-up on?"

"No," Spencer decided, grabbing her own cell phone and purse. "I'm starving. Let's just go."

They made their way out of the apartment and down the stairs of the vestibule. Once outside, Spencer's exhaustion seemed to instantly subside. It was a beautiful evening. The heat had lessened considerably to a comfortable high-70s, making for much more enjoyable weather.

Hanna was practically skipping, marveling at the hubbub of the busy town. Spencer was truthfully impressed as well; she passed more people on the street in the first two minutes of their walk than Rosewood even contained.

"Here it is," Hanna declared triumphantly after a few more moments had passed. "South University."

"What?"

"South University Street," Hanna elaborated. "Has some of the best bars in town."

She had really done her socialite research.

"Hanna, we're not old enough," Spencer said rationally.

Hanna shot a devilish smirk in Spencer's direction, her eyes sparkling wildly. "Au contraire." She fished into her purse and pulled out a small manila envelope. "First of all, the bars on campus pretty much let any students in. They like the business. But, in any case, Caleb made these for us before we left. As a going away present."

"Made what?" Spencer asked suspiciously, stopping in her tracks. She heard hooting and hollering coming from a nearby frat house.

Hanna was ripping the envelope open greedily. "These, Ms. Edwards."

"Ms. _what_?" Spencer demanded, knowing exactly where this was going. Before she knew it, Hanna had shoved a small piece of plastic into Spencer's hands. She studied it carefully.

Just as she had suspected. A fake ID. Though, she had to admit, it looked completely legit. It even had her exact driver license photograph, seamlessly edited in. Caleb certainly knew his way around the system.

"Amber Edwards?" she said gruffly. "Do I strike you as an 'Amber'?"

"I don't know," Hanna mused, slinging her blond hair over her shoulder. "Caleb made it, not me."

"And what's your new name?" Spencer asked sarcastically, crossing her arms.

"Trisha Maybelline," Hanna gushed.

"Maybelline? _Really_?"

She shrugged. "I got to pick my own."

"Jesus," Spencer breathed, unable to tear her eyes away from the deceptive identification. "Hanna, we'll never get away with this."

"Sure we will," Hanna dismissed. "Have a little fun, Spence. Take a walk on the wild side."

Spencer sighed heavily. She had never been much of a risk taker. She knew, however, that Hanna had spent years perfecting the art of deception. She had even gotten away with shoplifting from expensive, security-heavy department stores for an extended period of time.

...Before she got caught, anyway.

"Are you sure?" Spencer asked carefully.

"Positive. Now shut up and look 21," Hanna stated strictly. She looked across the street. "Ah. There it is. Good Time Charley's."

Spencer followed Hanna's gaze to be met with the bright glow of the sign. Dozens of students had gathered at the tables on the patio, and through the front window she saw that even more were crowded inside.

"C'mon," Hanna urged, beginning to skip over the cross-walk.

"I - I dunno," Spencer continued to protest, following hesitantly behind.

"Fine," Hanna said flippantly, stopping at the front doors with her hand resting on the handle. "Go home. Be a stick-in-the-mud. But I'm going in." With that, she had swung the door open and was gone before Spencer could blink.

She stood there for a moment, weighing her options. She knew in her subconscious that she _should_ just go home...But Hanna was trying her damnedest to make their first night as college students a memorable one. And Spencer knew that without Hanna, she may not allow herself to have _any_ fun.

She took a deep breath and walked in.

The music was deafening upon entrance. It was one of Kesha's songs, blasting through the stereos. Several people were dancing in a corner, making a sloppy mess of their alcoholic beverages. There were couples tucked into corner booths, affectionately cuddling and whispering sweet nothings. Ironically enough, there was also a table of Asian students who were actually studying.

"AMBER!"

It took Spencer a moment to register that Hanna was yelling for her. She turned and saw her broadly waving her arms from the bar. She politely squeezed through people to make her way over to her.

"Hey, _Trish_," Spencer muttered purposefully, climbing onto the stool beside Hanna. As she tried to decide where to set her purse, the bartender had returned with a Long Island.

"Here you are," he announced, placing it before Hanna. "It's $6.50. Or would you like to start a tab?"

"A tab is fine," Hanna decided, tossing a few dollars into a tip jar. "Can you get my friend here a - " she turned to Spencer expectantly, "what did you say you wanted?"

Spencer marveled at how effortless she made it look. Had Spencer been the bartender, _she_ would have even been fooled by Hanna's carefree facade. Being an infrequent drinker, she hadn't the faintest idea of what she wanted. She had mostly stolen sips from beer cans in her teenage years. She cleared her throat and hoped that her response would come out as confidently as Hanna's.

"Sex on the beach," she murmured uncertainly.

"What?" the bartender yelled, leaning over the counter to hear her above the music.

"SEX ON THE BEACH," Spencer practically screamed, then immediately felt the red flush rise in her cheeks.

"ID please."

Oh, right. Spencer fished in her jeans pocket to recover her "present" from Caleb.

The bartender spent a moment looking it over and comparing the photograph to Spencer's face. She crossed her legs and attempted to look as grown-up as possible. At long last, after what seemed like an eternity, he placed the ID in front of her.

"Coming right up, Amber."

As he walked away to fill her order, Spencer released a heavy exhale, feeling as though she had been holding her breath that entire time.

"Relax," Hanna pleaded. "We've got this. We're in."

Spencer supposed she was right. The hardest part was over with: their IDs had been checked and verified. All that was left now was to roll with the punches.

"I still need to get something to eat," Spencer insisted as the rumbling in her stomach returned.

"Later," Hanna dismissed.

"All set!"

Spencer turned. The bartender had returned with her drink.

"Put that on my tab," Hanna stated.

"Sure thing," he agreed, and wandered away to assist other customers.

Spencer eyed the beverage uncertainly.

"Well?" Hanna pressed expectantly.

Spencer sighed. She used the tiny black straw to stir it up a bit more and took a sip. The pineapple juice gave it a bitter taste, but truthfully, it was quite delicious.

Hanna smiled. "Good?"

Spencer nodded resignedly, hating that Hanna had been right all night. They sat in silence for a few minutes, absorbing the atmosphere, quietly people-watching. Spencer wondered how many of these students had also entered with fake IDs, and how many would end up being in her classes.

"I love this song!" Hanna declared suddenly as Jennifer Lopez began to echo through the speakers. "C'mon! Let's dance!"

"But my drink..." Spencer began.

"So finish it." With that, Hanna downed the last couple sips of her Long Island and stood, clapping her hands together impatiently.

Spencer referred to her own and was surprised to see that she, too, had absent-mindedly finished most of it. She took a deep breath and gulped down the remainder, listening satisfactorily to the gurgling sound the straw made in the empty glass. She slammed it down onto the bar definitively, as she had seen in the movies, fulfilling a secret curious fantasy.

"Let's go," she decided, feeling considerably looser than she had upon arriving. She stood up quickly, and immediately regretted it. The room tilted on its axis and she felt a warm tingling sensation travel from her head to her toes.

"You all right?" Hanna asked with a small chuckle, watching as Spencer wobbled a bit. "Feeling a little buzzed? You drank that pretty fast."

"Yeah, that's what I get for drinking on an empty stomach," Spencer said uncertainly. "Walking is...different now."

Hanna burst out into laughter, taking Spencer's hand and beginning to drag her to the dance floor. They pushed through several people to get as close to the speakers as possible, for some god-forsaken reason that Hanna had insisted upon. It was loud enough in the rest of the bar that Spencer saw no need to blow out her ear drums.

Once finding a spot that satisfied her, Hanna released Spencer's hand and began swaying her hips like a pro. Spencer had never been much for dancing in public, but the liquid courage was certainly assisting her with that. The lights seemed to glow more intensely since her Sex on the Beach, and she found herself caring less about what others around her may think.

Hanna grabbed Spencer's hand again, goofily giving Spencer an elaborate twirl. Spencer laughed, inexplicably entertained by how her vision couldn't keep up with her body. It was as if her eyes were on a delayed timer, translating it to her brain seconds after her body had been there.

And then Hanna let go. Spencer attempted to stop, but the momentum combined with her jelly legs was enough to send her chaotically toward the nearest table. She clumsily fell into it, laughing hysterically as she did so. Somewhere deep down, she was surprised at the lack of embarrassment she felt.

"Sorry, sorry!" she cried, attempting to lift her body away from the interrupted conversation.

"Spencer?"

She turned abruptly. Who here would know her real name, other than Hanna?

And there he was. Sitting at the table she had just foolishly smashed into, with three other guys she didn't recognize. His bright blue eyes bore into her soul, as per usual, uncovering the hidden depths of her deepest secrets and ambitions.

For the first time in several months, she was face-to-face with Toby Cavanaugh.

TO BE CONTINUED


	4. The Letter

_**A/N**: Thanks for the reviews, everyone! Glad you're enjoying it so far! I've had the writing bug this weekend, as I resume graduate classes on Tuesday and may not have as much free time._

_In address to specific questions/concerns:_

_HarrylovesGinny09: The girls knew about the break-up, but when Emily met with Toby, she also knew the only reason they were apart: "A". In this case, she knew that if Spencer had knowledge of Toby's enlistment, it would change everything between them. Therefore, she tried to urge Toby to talk to Spencer himself, knowing that Spencer would have told him the truth about the break-up under the new circumstances._

_Live Like Music.: Admittedly, I chose University of Michigan because it was the school I went to, so I have detailed knowledge about the campus for the purpose of the story. Also - U of M is a very prestigious school after all is said and done about Ivy Leagues :-) And as far as the "big city goes" - it was indeed a "Hanna-ism," but also references its comparison to small-town Rosewood!_

_Lastly, Good Time Charley's is a real bar in Ann Arbor. I am improvising, somewhat, on what the interior looks like - I have admittedly never been inside. It's always too busy!_

_On with the story!_

**CHAPTER THREE**

"Oh my God," she breathed, a flattering shade of pink having risen in her already-flushed cheeks.

Toby stared at her, hoping that he was doing a satisfactory job of keeping the longing in his heart separate from his facial expression. She was more beautiful than ever.

"I - I have to go," she muttered, turning away in panic.

"Spencer, no - wait," Toby protested, standing hastily and taking hold of her arm. "Talk to me."

She looked from his grip on her arm up into his eyes. The chocolate color in their depths dazzled him and made his mouth go dry.

"I can't," she whispered, silently pleading with him to let her be. In resignation, he loosened his hand and disdainfully watched her walk away.

"Who was _that_?" Cody inquired appreciatively. "Nice ass..."

Toby shot him a warning glare, feeling his teeth clench together. "Don't talk about her like that."

"Whoa. Sorry dude," Cody replied, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "I got it. Ex-girlfriend."

"Something like that," Toby murmured. Somehow, he had never been able to quite process the prefix of 'ex' when it came to Spencer. It had ended so abruptly, he hardly considered it a conventional break-up.

He turned to watch her hasten to Hanna, both of whom were talking animatedly. Hanna looked as though she was attempting to calm her down. And was failing miserably.

"What is it?" Holmes asked quietly.

"It's nothing," Toby insisted distantly. He still had not brought himself to resume his seat.

"C'mon, man. I've never seen you so bent out of shape," Lancaster pressed. "That girl's got you totally out of your zone."

"I just...haven't seen her in ages," Toby responded softly. "It didn't really end well."

"It never does, with girls like that," Cody added sardonically, sipping on his Budweiser.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Toby demanded.

"Relax, Cavanaugh," Cody urged. "I just mean she's a hell of a looker. And flattery don't come cheap, if you know what I'm saying."

Toby felt himself growing progressively angrier with Cody's insinuation of Spencer being anything close to a slut. Had he not considered him a brother in arms, he would have certainly knocked him out.

"I know what you're saying," Toby began, "but you need to shut the fuck up."

"All right! All right!" Cody declared dismissively.

Holmes leapt from his seat and put a halting hand on Toby's chest, inserting himself between Toby and Cody. "C'mon man," he muttered in Toby's direction. "You know he's a tactless drunk. Ignore him."

Toby sighed and nodded. Holmes was the best friend he had made from the army. He always seemed to read him like an open novel.

He turned back to find that Spencer and Hanna had gone from their previous location. He desperately roved the bar with his eyes, afraid that if he lost sight of her it would be the last time he ever saw her. In truth, he didn't know what he was hoping to accomplish - she made it very clear that she had no interest in talking to him. But he had to hope...

He located them at long last, standing by the door. Spencer had her hand on the knob, ready to make a quick get-away. She seemed to still be arguing with Hanna.

Without thinking it adequately through, Toby found that his feet were leading him toward them. When Spencer saw him coming, she appeared as a deer in headlights.

"Spencer..." he began again, once within range for her to hear him.

"Hanna, let's go," Spencer insisted, pushing the door open hastily and refusing to look back. Hanna paused to give Toby a sympathetic glance, but began to follow her disappearing friend.

"Hanna, wait," Toby pleaded, grabbing Hanna's hand. She looked cautiously from this contact to his face, seemingly undergoing some version of an internal struggle.

"I should go to her," she reasoned.

"Just give me two minutes," Toby persisted. "For God's sake - TWO MINUTES. It's been almost two _years_ and I have yet to get any answers." He felt his blood boiling within his veins, realizing how angry the entire situation had made him.

Hanna's face fell. He knew she felt guilty. But he didn't care. He surged on.

"Back when I left, Emily told me that there were things I should know. She kept saying that Spencer would change her mind if she knew my plans. At the time, I was so blind-sided by everything that I didn't care. But now..." He trailed off, unsure of how to articulate his current frustration.

Hanna sighed dejectedly. "Toby, listen..." she began, looking over her shoulder nervously as if to ensure that Spencer was not secretly eavesdropping. "There are things that she could never tell you."

"Like what?"

She shook her head. "It's not my place. I have to go." She turned again to exit.

"Hanna..." Toby begged. His voice had cracked involuntarily.

She paused and considered him for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip. "Okay," she replied uncertainly. "You asked for it."

Toby listened intently, stepping closer to Hanna to be sure he wouldn't miss a word of the explanation.

"She had to do it...to keep you safe." Hanna exhaled heavily, as if saying this had lifted a giant weight from her shoulders.

"Safe?" Toby demanded. "What do you mean?"

She looked down at the floor, internal wheels visibly turning. "Someone was threatening her. They were going to hurt you, unless she stayed away."

His heart froze over like a Pennsylvania pond in December. He ran this information through his brain several times before responding.

"Who?" he demanded, though it came out as more of a statement than a question. When he found out, not even Holmes would be able to hold him back.

Hanna shrugged. "We don't know. Honest."

"Tell me everything," Toby urged, high on the thrill of actually making headway to this long-exhausted mystery.

"I can't," she insisted. "I really can't."

Toby didn't push it. He knew that Hanna had already crossed a dozen friendship boundaries to have this conversation with him. He didn't want to ask her to betray Spencer any further.

She looked over her shoulder once more, as if checking for Spencer again. She then took a hesitant step closer to him, so that her face was almost directly at his shoulder. Hope bubbled in his chest as he anxiously anticipated the next words from her mouth.

"We live in the apartment building at the corner of Willard and Hill," she said under her breath, ensuring that the information would go to his ears only. "It's a tan building with annuals planted out front. Apartment 2B."

He nodded, committing this information to memory.

She nodded too, then took a step back. That was it.

"Take care of yourself, Toby," she offered. And then she was gone.

* * *

><p>Once inside the apartment, Spencer kicked off her flip flops and tossed her purse carelessly. For once, she had no qualms about creating a mess. She was breathing more heavily than she had in months. She wasn't sure if it was due to the shock, the run home, or a combination of both.<p>

She bee-lined to the bathroom door and slammed it shut, being sure to turn the lock. She was admittedly embarrassed for her behavior, but was more concerned about Hanna asking more questions when she got home. Questions Spencer did not want to answer.

She studied her face in the mirror, trying to piece together all that had just happened. It felt like a blur. An out-of-body experience. She had spent so long emotionally detaching from the memory of Toby, and there he was - sitting in the middle of the goddamn bar down the street. It was as if the heartbreak had started all over again. And the pain seared through her chest like an unbearable bout of cardiac arrest.

Still feeling on the verge of hyperventilation, she began carelessly stripping off her clothes. She didn't even pause to study her naked body in the mirror and critique her most-hated problem areas, as was typically somewhat of a morning ritual.

She turned the knob of the bath tub - best to turn the hot water all the way up, to ensure that the scalding would burn away the pain. Digging through bathroom cabinets, she found Hanna's trusty shea bubble bath, and proceeded to pour a majority of it into the bath tub. She felt guilty for a brief moment, but rationalized with herself that she would replace it.

She climbed in and pulled the curtain shut, purposefully keeping out the light. With legs hugged protectively to her chest, she remembered the first time she had read Toby's good-bye letter. She had immediately resorted to this exact same familiar comfort.

_Dearest Spencer_, it had read.

_There are so many things I wish I could say. Promises I wish I could make - and the chance to show you that I can keep them._

_I'll start off by telling you that I understand...understand that you didn't want to be with me. We were always some version of Beauty and the Beast. And it was bound to happen, someday, that you would see that you had potential that surpassed a relationship with me._

_I know you said that this was about trust. I know that's part of it. But I also know that you're beautiful and bright, and you were scared of tying yourself to me and being held back._

_I need you to know that you were, and always will be, the love of my life. You have taught me what it means to truly rely on another human being, and be able to completely trust someone else with your heart. I will forever value that lesson, most of all._

_After basic training, I will not be returning to Rosewood. There is nothing left for me there, and I hope you can understand that. But I also want you to know that should we ever meet again, in the near or far future, I will do absolutely everything in my power to win you back. If fate happens to put us in the same place, I will not ignore its cues again. I will fight for you, no matter what it takes._

_I love you with all of my heart. Be safe...be happy._

_Love, Toby._

Spencer hadn't realized it, but recalling the letter from memory had caused her to begin crying. She felt her body wracking with disruptive sobs, and put a hand over her mouth to silence their cry.

"Spencer?" Hanna was knocking at the door. "Spence, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Spencer called, using the only ounce of remaining strength to control her voice. She felt her face scrunch up once more, and put her balled fist back to her mouth, hoping to muffle any additional noise.

The tub was nearly full, but she was neither ready to get out nor to silence her background noise. She allowed it to drain and turned on the shower head. And there she sat, under the steady stream of water, crying until her throat was raw. It felt likened to an eternity. Her skin was burning, but that was just the way she liked it. It was symbolic to her.

Once she heard Hanna's door shut for the night, she gathered her composure slowly made her way out of the shower.

She looked into the mirror once more, distastefully noticing that her eyes were pink and puffy from crying. It was a Hastings lesson, growing up, that you never revealed your tears to anyone. It was a sign of weakness. Had Hanna still been up, she would have gone through the arduous process of re-applying her make up.

His face flashed in her mind once more. He had looked so beautiful...even with his hair at a short buzz, he still made her go weak in the knees. She owed him so much...but she didn't know how to tell him about any of it. He had vowed to win her back...but what if he didn't miss her the same way she missed him? It was foolish to even consider the possibility.

She pulled on a baggy t-shirt to sleep in and crept out of the hallway and into her room. Upon shutting the door, she exhaled heavily. How on earth was she supposed to sleep tonight?

TO BE CONTINUED


	5. The Hard Truth

**CHAPTER FOUR**

When Spencer awoke the next morning, her body ached as though she had participated in a triathlon. It stemmed, most certainly, from all of the events from the night before, combined with a restless sleep. The clock read 11:07 A.M., and she found herself surprised at how long she had slept in.

She paused a moment to consider her surroundings. It was her first morning in her new bedroom. She smiled softly and scooted further under the comforter, being sure to enjoy this important occasion.

She allowed her eyes to drift shut once more, trying to digest what had happened the previous evening with a clearer mind. She felt somewhat foolish for how she had reacted to seeing Toby; he must have thought she had lost her mind. After all, it had been such a great deal of time...and 'A' had been non-existent for months...And what if that was the last time she would ever see Toby? The last impression she ever made, and it was one of straight-jacket calibre.

She certainly hoped it wouldn't be the last time...She truthfully missed him more than words could say.

Just as she felt she may be drifting off once more, her favorite smell had begun to waft into the bedroom.

Hanna was making coffee.

Suddenly wide awake, she leapt from her bed, re-making it in record time, and sprinted into the hallway.

Sure enough, there Hanna sat with one of her text books, the sound of brewing coffee floating in from the kitchen. Impressed as Spencer was to see Hanna with a book in hand, she also found amusement in the look of disgust on her face. It was as though the pages of the book were releasing some unpleasant odor.

"Morning," Spencer murmured, yawning unexpectedly.

Hanna glanced up and immediately closed her Art History book, as if she had been dying for something else to do. "Morning, sleepy-head!"

Spencer combed her fingers through her hair, trying to get out the knots she had created by sitting under the water for so long without washing. "Actually reading that?" She indicated the text book on the dining room table.

"What?" Hanna looked to Spencer then back at the book. "Oh. There was nothing on TV. Just stupid talk shows."

"Mmm," Spencer mumbled noncommittally, wandering into the kitchen to check on the coffee. As she passed Hanna, she caught a whiff of Hanna's favorite expensive perfume. The one she only wore on really special occasions.

She paused and noticed for the first time that Hanna was completely dolled up in her trusty 'little black dress,' and her make-up and hair were Hollywood worthy.

"You look fancy," Spencer began suspiciously. "What's going on?"

Hanna grinned, skipping past Spencer and into the kitchen to begin pouring the coffee. "Caleb is flying in. He'll be here in a little while."

Spencer watched as Hanna practically dumped the entire sugar container into her mug, considering this new information.

"Already? You've only been gone a day."

Hanna giggled wistfully. "I know, but he won some extra money from a scratch-off ticket. He said he couldn't think of a better way to spend it."

Spencer was still trying to digest all that this would entail.

"What does that mean for tonight?" she inquired, feeling unprepared to leave the apartment to them so soon after moving in.

"No worries," Hanna dismissed. "We're getting a hotel room at the Ramada."

"How much money did Caleb _win_?" Spencer demanded, knowing that Caleb wasn't exactly loaded and that Hanna's mother was being careful to budget her.

Hanna stirred in her cream and sugar and leaned her back against the counter, taking small sips. She still hadn't wiped that school girl grin from her lips.

"Five hundred dollars."

"Damn," Spencer responded, impressed. "I wish I had his luck." Satisfied with the unofficial Q&A, Spencer began mixing her own mug of coffee.

"First pot of coffee in our own place," Hanna marveled, propping herself up into a sitting position on the counter. "And it tastes perfect."

Spencer had the distinct feeling that Hanna had prepared the coffee to a very mild degree, much to her chagrin. Spencer liked her coffee strong. But nonetheless, Hanna had a point - it was another first in a series of many to come, and was to be appreciated.

"So, uh..." Spencer began, grateful to be busying her hands and eyes on the task at hand. "You got home a while after I did last night..."

Hanna coughed gently as she was taking a sip, caught off-guard. It took her a moment to formulate a response. "Yeah...about that..."

Spencer finished mixing her morning beverage and turned to face her expectantly. "What happened?" she demanded, fearing the worst.

Hanna seemed unnecessarily engrossed in the coffee floating around in her mug. She studied it carefully, as if she were browsing a catalogue. "Not much," she muttered. "I just wanted to see how Toby was doing..."

"Hanna," Spencer began reproachfully. "Why would you talk to him?" She felt inexplicably annoyed.

"Why wouldn't _you_?" Hanna demanded defensively, raising her eyes to meet Spencer's. "I get that you're still hurting, but it's been so long. And 'A' hasn't bothered us in months. You have no excuse for ignoring him except your own fears and insecurities about picking up where you left off."

Ouch. Hanna had hit the nail on the head, much to Spencer's dismay. She certainly knew how to strike below the belt when trying to make a point.

"It's just...impossible," she mumbled, nearly incoherent. She knew she sounded foolish.

Hanna cleared her throat, seeming to be getting a thrill from gaining all the power in the conversation. "I think you should see him."

Spencer nearly spilled her coffee. "I think that's a really bad idea."

Hanna rolled her eyes. "You've been wallowing in self-pity over this break-up since it happened," she reasoned harshly. "You still love him. It's obvious. You're just too scared to confront it, or confront him. If you want to stop being miserable, you know how to make it happen. So forgive me if I don't feel sorry for you anymore."

Double ouch. Before Spencer had even completely processed what Hanna had said, she was already leaving the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" Spencer demanded.

"I'm going to pick up something for breakfast," Hanna replied, slinging her purse over her shoulder. "And when I get back, I'll be expecting a change in attitude."

"Okay, _Mom_," Spencer muttered sarcastically. The look Hanna shot in her direction only solidified Spencer's joke.

"I'll be right back." With that, she was gone.

Spencer lowered herself uncertainly into one of the dining room chairs, trying to process the conversation. Though Hanna had made a feeble - hell, a nonexistent - attempt at sugar coating, and though it had painfully struck a nerve within Spencer, she knew she was right.

And she hated the embarrassment of someone else being right. It was an insecurity that stemmed from her childhood, always being outsmarted and outwitted by Melissa. The first memory of feeling inadequate was etched into her skull, as much as she would have liked to forget it.

She was five, and she and Melissa were racing on their bicycles. Spencer remembered watching Melissa's hair riding the wind elegantly, and hoped to be as beautiful someday. Melissa had won the race, of course, and made a cruel remark about Spencer still needing training wheels. "I'll always be older, and smarter, and stronger," Melissa had said. "And I'll never let you forget it."

Somewhere deep in her subconscious, Spencer had developed a complex about always needing to prove herself outside of her family. If she wasn't good enough for them, she would damn well show the rest of the world how valuable she could be.

She uncertainly made her way back to her bedroom, steaming coffee mug in hand. She paused on the threshold, leaning against the door frame, studying the taboo box that still remained unpacked in the corner. Within it, she knew she would find further proof of Hanna's annoyingly-sensible argument.

It was almost as though he had _known_. His letter had specifically stated that, should they ever meet again, he wouldn't let her go a second time. Spencer, being logical-minded as she was, had decided that the odds of their reunion ever happening were extremely disdainful. What with his departure to North Carolina, and hers to Michigan - she hadn't imagined there would be a chance in Hell that they could ever meet again. She had lost that hope long ago, and had grown to accept it. She assumed that Toby Cavanaugh would always be her fondest memory, but that he would only ever be that - a _memory_.

She approached the box with caution, feeling as if her feet were not her own. Some untraceable force was pulling her in its direction, as if a fishing hook had been slung through her belly button. It called to her, in a manner that would certainly be certifiable for insanity.

Lowering herself to the floor beside it, she weighed the options of exploring it. Maybe its contents would restore the hope that she had so desperately missed. Though she enjoyed the logical way in which her brain functioned, she often found herself disappointed in its cynical consequences. She had never been much of an optimist, simply because realism did not allow for it.

She pulled the flaps open once more, noticing that all photographs had been purposefully turned upside-down. She knew precisely why she had done that, but had never before taken note of the deeper meaning. Hesitantly, she pulled the first off the top.

It was the picture she had taken the day she bought his truck. There he was, standing in front of it, brimming with pride and affection. She knew how much the gift had meant to him at the time, but since then had somehow forgotten what it had been like to sacrifice so much for another person. She studied his face in the picture. So young. So naive. In comparison to the face she had seen last night, it seemed as though years of wisdom and experience had been tacked on in such a short amount of time.

She also recalled perfectly that this was the same day he had told her he loved her for the first time. The image was burned into her head like a tattoo. She could remember the exact look on his face, the passion in his eyes. It was the sort of memory that you wished you could bottle forever, so that you could share it with your children and grandchildren, untainted.

Carefully she lifted the next item. It was the letter he had slipped into the French version of _Catcher in the Rye_. It seemed foolish to keep it, as it was only a Braille marking from Jenna's computer...but nonetheless, it had been one of the first indications of his trust in her. And somehow, that made it more special than anybody else could understand.

She was shaken from her reverie when she heard the front door slam.

"Spencer! I'm back! I have bagels!"

She sat there for a moment, unsure of what her appetite status even was. She felt emotionally empty to an extent that surely required some sort of substance to fill the void; but physically, she felt sick to her stomach.

"Spence," Hanna called, approaching the door. She paused in the doorway, examining the events unfolding before her. "Spencer..."

"You were right," Spencer said quickly. She hated admitting when she was wrong, and tried as often as she could to say the words as painlessly as possible. Speeding up the sentences usually helped. "I miss him." She took a deep breath to steady her emotions, though she could feel her eyes welling up with involuntary tears.

"Oh, honey," Hanna murmured, dropping her purse and the bag of bagels, quickly making her way over to her best friend in the corner. She immediately sat and wrapped her arms around her, cradling Spencer's head in the crook of her neck. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier...I was a bitch..."

"No," Spencer protested, shaking her head against Hanna's warm shoulder. "No, you were right. I've been - almost _enjoying_ being miserable, in some morbid way. It's as though I spent all this time trying to get over him, but in the end haven't accomplished anything. It became another challenge to overcome, and I became obsessed with making it happen. I forgot about what it means to be happy...I forgot it a long time ago."

"There's still a chance," Hanna reasoned optimistically. "Maybe you two ran into each other again for a reason."

If only she knew how spot-on she was. She had never read the letter...Spencer had kept it strictly to herself.

"I don't know," Spencer whispered desperately, pulling away and wiping her eyes. The wetness in their corners had gone as quickly as they had appeared. "Maybe I already screwed it all up."

Hanna scoffed good-naturedly, sending Spencer a side-long smirk. "Spencer Hastings? Screwing something up and not being able to fix it? Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?"

Hanna's comment actually caused Spencer to laugh a little. And she had to admit, it felt quite good.

"C'mon," Hanna urged, standing and offering a hand. "I have bagels."

"I'm not hungry," Spencer argued.

"Pish posh," Hanna dismissed. "Like my granny always said, breakfast is the most important meal of the day."

Spencer rolled her eyes and accepted Hanna's hand. She grasped it all the way back to the kitchen, feeling grateful for the warmth against her own clammy skin. She let go only when Hanna began unveiling the baker's dozen she had acquired, rambling on and on about all the available flavors. Spencer watched her with appreciation.

"Thank you," she murmured. It was the most genuine gratitude she had expressed to anyone in months.

Hanna paused and smiled somberly. "I'm always here, lovely."

And Spencer knew it to be true.

Hanna, as if suddenly remembering something important, quickly raised her wrist to her face to study her watch. "Oh, shit," she muttered. "I have to get Caleb." She began gathering her things and snatching a bagel to go, but stopped in her tracks, staring at Spencer.

"What?" Spencer asked.

"I just...I...I can tell him to wait," Hanna decided, clearly feeling guilty for abandoning her friend.

Spencer smiled and shook her head. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm fine." Hanna gave a dead-pan expression. "Seriously. Go."

"Are you sure?" Hanna questioned, though Spencer could tell she was failing to hide her excitement.

"Yes," Spencer promised. "Go on. Don't leave him waiting."

"Thanks!" Hanna chirped, throwing her arms around Spencer. Spencer laughingly patted her on the back.

"Love you," Hanna said as she made her way out the door. "I'll be back tomorrow!"

"Bye," Spencer said in the cheeriest voice she could muster. Once the door had closed, she allowed her face to fall back to reality.

She would be fine. She didn't lie to her. Right?

A sharp knock on the door interrupted the bite she had taken of her bagel. Hastily setting it down and wiping her hands, she ran towards the foyer.

"What did you forget?" she laughed as she pulled the door open.

It was Toby.

"Nothing," he murmured softly in response.

TO BE CONTINUED


	6. Until The Day I Die

_**A/N**: This may be the last chapter for a bit, seeing as I resume classes tomorrow. But I wanted to be sure to get it out there, as it is (hopefully) long-awaited. Enjoy!_

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Spencer was frozen. She couldn't bring herself to move, no matter how hard she tried. It was as though a cold bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head, tensing every one of her muscles.

"Can...Can I come in?" Toby asked quietly. She noticed that he had a paper grocery bag in one hand.

"Um...yeah, sure," she mumbled, finally willing her body to step aside.

He hesitantly stepped over the threshold, gazing around the apartment as he did so. "It looks nice in here," he stated simply.

"Thanks." She closed the door behind him, studying the back of his head. She suddenly felt self-conscious about her appearance - her hair was matted and she was still in her pajamas. Desperately trying to smooth her tresses, she slowly followed him into the living room.

He stopped at the couch and considered her for a moment, as though awaiting her permission. She cleared her throat and offered it. "Have a seat."

He did so, setting the mysterious paper bag on the floor beside him. Spencer stood there for a moment, feeling foolish. She was rapidly attempting to decide where the most proper place was to sit. At last, she chose to curl up in the solitary arm chair.

They sat there in silence for a few moments, avoiding one another's eyes. Spencer's heart was pounding in her chest as she tried to think of something valuable to say.

"How did you know where to find me?" she asked. So much for valuable.

Toby cleared his throat and smiled a little, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning back to make himself comfortable. "I have my ways."

"Hanna," Spencer declared. She had known before she asked.

"Don't be angry," he protested nervously. "I practically beat it out of her."

Another pregnant pause.

"What do you have in the bag?" Spencer inquired.

He seemed momentarily confused, then followed her gaze. "Oh. That." He lifted it onto his lap and began rummaging inside. "Just a few things I thought you'd like."

Curiosity piqued, Spencer leaned forward to observe. He unearthed a bottle of wine and a brand new edition of Scrabble, setting them both on the coffee table.

She smiled inwardly at the board game. She was still struggling to come up with something proper to say.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. She mentally kicked herself. _What is this, the interrogation room?_

He seemed to mull this over for a minute before responding. "I missed you," he said simply.

"Oh."

Silence befell them once more.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked, gesturing to the wine.

Spencer laughed nervously. "Isn't it a little early for that?"

"It's five o'clock somewhere," he quoted. Without awaiting a response, he had already fished into his bag of tricks to pull out two wine glasses and a corkscrew.

"You certainly went all-out," she observed.

"I figured, what with this being a new place and all..." he began. A loud _pop_! echoed through the room as he pulled out the cork. "...that you may not have all the essentials yet."

"Right."

He poured the wine and handed her a glass. She sipped on it hesitantly, as he swirled his own around.

"What are you doing in Michigan?" Spencer continued.

He took a long sip of his wine before setting it down on a coaster. "My unit stationed me up here, in the area. I've been working a security job on campus for now, but I'd like to use my G.I. Bill soon to start taking some classes."

"What kind of classes?" Spencer asked. Despite feeling like a young child with endless questions, she had to admit that continuing to talk was increasing her level of comfort.

"I'm not sure. Maybe some business courses...maybe some philosophy," he replied. He shrugged. "I have a lot of interests to explore."

She nodded, taking another sip.

"How about you? What kind of classes are you taking?" he asked.

She cleared her throat. "I start on Thursday...just some gen eds for now. But I think I'd like to major in psychology."

His knowing smile made her appendages tingle. Or maybe it was the speed at which she was drinking her wine. Or both.

"I always figured you'd go into social sciences."

She smiled slightly, too. Another pause.

"So," Toby began seriously. "Are we ever going to address the elephant in the room?"

Spencer laughed on the inside. She had never heard another person her age use that phrase.

"It's not so much an elephant anymore as it is its own planet," she replied, making a feeble attempt to lighten the mood. He did not laugh. "I mean..." she started nervously, "what is there to talk about?"

"What happened before I left." It was a statement, not a question.

The tingling in her veins seemed to freeze over once more in fear. She had always dreaded this day, and had admittedly thought for some time that it would never come.

She dove in head first.

"There was...someone..." she began uncertainly, unsure of how to even unveil the mystery without sounding like a psychopath. "Someone who used to harass me and my friends."

"Who was it?" he asked. He was now leaning over his knees, intently listening.

She shook her head. "We never found out. But they were dangerous. They were the ones - or one - who killed Ian."

Toby shook his head, confused. "I thought he killed himself?"

"No. It was a set-up."

She waited for this to sink in with him before continuing.

"Anyway...they had done terrible things. Nasty things. They threatened us...and that, I could handle. What I couldn't handle was them threatening you..."

Toby's gaze was unfaltering. He continued to stare into her eyes, his face impassive.

"When they cut your brake lines...I knew I had to walk away." Though the story was concluded, Spencer felt like there was still so much left to say.

He was quiet for a moment. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was scared," she rationalized, studying her wine glass. "I was scared that if I told you, you'd be hurt for sure."

"Spence..." he began softly. "I could have taken care of myself."

"You don't know what 'A' was capable of," Spencer protested, feeling irrational fear creeping into her voice. Though 'A' had left her alone for months, she still trembled at the thought.

" 'A?' "

"That's what they called themselves. It was some twisted homage to Ali."

There was another moment of silence before she turned the tables on him.

"How come you never wrote to me? When you left for the army, I mean?"

He hesitated, wringing his hands together in his lap. "I didn't think you wanted to hear from me, so I let you go."

"I looked for a letter every day," Spencer blurted before considering her words. Impulsivity had taken the bull by the horns. "I missed you...every day."

He studied her face, searching for any hidden meaning behind her words.

"When I saw you at the bar last night..." she began, feeling uncomfortable letting the silence settle for long periods of time, "all I could think about was the letter you wrote to me, before you left."

He nodded. "The one that said I'd fight for you."

She eyed him for a reaction. "Did you mean it?"

"Every word."

"Even now?"

"More than ever."

A period of time passed where they locked eye contact, each thinking desperately of what to say next.

"How about that Scrabble?" Toby finally proposed.

The hours wound on, each one progressively bringing more comfort than the one before. They sat on the floor on either side of the coffee table, each intently focusing on the competition at hand. The bottle of wine was nearly empty, and Spencer was basking in her success.

"Omnipotent," she announced. "That's 102 points."

Toby gaped at the game board. "Where on earth do you come up with these words?" he mused. She simply smiled in response.

"Your turn."

He considered his letters for a moment, concentrating. Spencer watched him, greedily taking in all of his beauty. She had missed the way his jaw squared when he was deep in thought, the way his eyes seemed to give off a brighter blue when he was competing with her.

"Ah," he said at last, the proverbial light bulb going off in his head. He picked up a letter and reached over to place it on the board. En route, he bumped the glass of wine that Spencer had foolishly left teetering on the edge of the table.

"Oh!" she cried in surprise as the red beverage splashed into her lap. She stood up quickly, studying the stain that was beginning to seep into her gray t-shirt.

"Oh God, I'm sorry," Toby began, leaping to his feet. "Where do you keep your towels?"

"It's fine," Spencer laughed dismissively, enjoying the warmth that the wine in her blood stream was providing. "I'll get it."

Toby hesitantly sat back down, watching as she slipped into her bedroom down the hall. She was rummaging through her drawers for something clean to wear. He began to quietly finish the word he had begun, but found his eyes flickering to her room occasionally. She was setting a fresh shirt on the bed, mopping up as much of the mess on her stomach as she could with a hand towel. He studied her intently, feeling a balloon of guilt in his chest as he did so.

Suddenly, she pulled the wet t-shirt over her head, her back to him as she did so. He felt his mouth go dry as he appreciatively gazed at the curvature of her back. Her porcelain skin glowed in all the right places, her shoulder blades shifting as she lowered the new shirt over her head. She had always been so beautiful...

She began to turn. Embarrassed, Toby quickly averted his eyes to the game, feeling perverted. So what if she had accidentally left the door open? That was not an open invitation to look.

"Back," she stated as she immediately began attending to the mess on the carpet with the same hand towel she had wiped her shirt with. Toby watched, feeling utterly useless.

"Here, let me help..." he began, leaning forward to take the towel from her grasp. As he did, his fingers mistakenly brushed hers, and electricity coursed through them both. He stopped to look at her, wondering if she was experiencing the same magnetism as he. He found that her eyes were trained on him as well, their hands still touching, faces precariously close.

"Toby..." she began quietly.

"Hmm?" he responded, hardly audible.

"Would you really fight for me?" she murmured, searching his face desperately for an answer.

"Until the day I die."

She smiled nervously, twisting her fingers more tightly around his. "Toby..."

"Shh," he murmured, using his free hand to cup her cheek. She leaned into his touch, her eyes filled with confusion. He slowly craned his neck inward, planting a tentative kiss on the tip of her nose. Her eyelids fluttered as he did so. He began a pattern, placing another on her forehead, then gingerly brushing his lips down to her cheek. He was dangerously close to her mouth; he could feel her warm breath on his face, and could smell the bitter wine on her tongue.

He paused to study her reaction, silently asking permission to take the next step. he saw the passion burning deep within her eyes, an internal struggle taking place.

"I love you," he murmured. "I always have."

She blinked several times, as if nervously trying to choose her response.

"I love you, too," she said at last.

What happened next was a blur. It was not Toby this time, but Spencer, who initiated the next move. She had quickly lunged toward him, trapping his lips with her own. There was a desperate desire in her embrace that Toby had never witnessed in her before. She pulled him closer to her, practically sitting in his lap, greedily nibbling on his lower lip and using her tongue to explore his mouth.

He felt his heart beating wildly in his chest, his skin burning in a way that only Spencer was able to command. He plunged his hands into her hair, using this leverage to pull her face closer. She moaned softly into his mouth, fumbling beneath his t-shirt to caress his abdomen. Her fingertips left a powerful tingle in their wake.

She pulled back enough to begin yanking his shirt over his head. As she did so, she chewed her bottom lip seductively in such a way that Toby knew it would be nearly impossible for him to back track now. She threw it carelessly toward the couch, pulling herself into his lap so that she was straddling his hips. He trembled in slight, lowering his lips into the crook of her neck and planting kisses down to her shoulder. She sighed happily, pulling back so that she could remove one of her own articles of clothing. The new shirt that she had put on less than five minutes ago was now somewhere toward the kitchen.

Toby marveled at her body, softly tracing the shape of her curves with his fingertips. She caressed his cheek as he did so, gazing at him expectantly.

"I don't think we should..." he began, concerned for what the aftermath of such a fast-paced reunion would entail for both of them emotionally.

She paused, considering his face. She brushed her thumb across his soft lips.

"Don't you want to?" she asked self-consciously, out of breath.

Toby laughed bitterly. "More than you can imagine." He paused, studying her face. "Do you?"

She nodded. "Make love to me."

Toby's heart skipped a beat. He began to stand up, holding both of her legs around his hips as he did so. They never broke eye contact as he carefully carried her back toward her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them.

TO BE CONTINUED


	7. Four's A Crowd

_**A/N**: Short chapter, but I had to get it out before the week gets crazy! Enjoy!_

**CHAPTER SIX**

Spencer awoke the next morning to aches in muscles she didn't realize she had. It was the pleasant kind of pain though - the sort that proves how passionate the night before was. It had been a blur of flesh and sheets and intensity. Toby's eyes burning into her own would be an image that would forever be etched into her brain, causing her nerve-endings to tremble each time she recalled it.

"You are so beautiful," he had murmured over and over again, leaving trails of kisses all over her body. She loved the way his glistening chest had seemed to sparkle throughout the night, as if emphasizing his truly Adonis figure. She couldn't recall how many times they had made love, as all the sessions ran together as one, comprehensive living fantasy.

She smiled at the thought and snuggled her face closer into his chest, planting soft kisses where her mouth rested. Both were still completely nude, her comforter having been pushed away and forgotten long into the wee hours of the morning. She began gently trailing her fingertips along his side, amazed at how genuinely beautiful every inch of him was.

He stirred in slight. She hesitantly looked toward his face, wondering if her touch had awoken him. His eyelids fluttered open, and his gaze went immediately to her.

"Morning," she murmured, knowing the idiotic grin on her face could not be hidden.

"Mmm," he mumbled with a smile, using the arm that was pinned beneath her body to softly tousle her hair. "Best morning ever."

She giggled quietly.

"Cold," Toby whispered suddenly, sleepily looking around for the covers. Spencer took it upon herself to reach around him and pull them back over.

"Better?"

"Mmm," he repeated serenely, pulling her closer.

"Last night was beautiful," she began seriously, propping herself up on her elbows. "I can't believe we waited so long to do that."

He chuckled, tracing indiscriminate figures along her back with his fingertips. "It wasn't by choice, let me assure you."

She scoffed good-naturedly. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

He turned to face her, a mischievous smile grazing his lips. "Well...had we not spent the last two years apart..."

Spencer's mouth fell agape in mock indignation. "I'll have you know, Mr. Cavanaugh," she began flirtatiously, "that the best things in life are worth the wait."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he retorted jokingly.

Spencer sat up defensively, grabbing a pillow and using it to smack him in the face.

"Hey, hey!" he protested laughingly, taking the pillow and tossing it behind himself, forgotten. In retaliation, he rolled over and pinned her on her back, holding both of her arms steadily in place.

"Let me go," she giggled, though she did nothing to prevent the secretly arousing wrestling match.

He studied her face carefully, smiling as he did so. The way her hair fell in rivulets along the bed gave her the illusion of a delicate goddess.

"You're beautiful," he murmured. In response, she raised her lips to his, meeting them in a gentle and affectionate kiss. It was a different sort than the longing tonsil hockey they had played the night before; this was the pillow-talk kind, the sweet and sleepy post-romp declaration of love. He gently slid one hand below her neck, creating a head rest upon which to raise her face closer to his.

"Spencer, I'm back!"

Before Spencer could properly react, her bedroom door was being thrown open.

"Oh, my God," Hanna screamed.

Toby hastily rolled off of Spencer, being sure that both were properly covered. Spencer held the blanket protectively over her chest.

"Hanna - what's - OH, MY GOD." Caleb had walked up behind her, and instantly leapt backwards, covering his eyes. Hanna seemed to be reacting much more slowly, standing agape in the doorway.

"Oh, my _God_," she repeated.

"Are you done yet?" Spencer hissed, feeling outrageously irritated at Hanna's negligence of her privacy. But how was she to know that Spencer had company, after all?

Hanna was inappropriately staring at Toby's muscular chest, as if still in shock. This didn't go unnoticed by Spencer, who began hastily grabbing the clothes that were within reach of her blanketed refuge.

Caleb was still standing beside her, one hand covering his eyes, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

"Caleb," Toby greeted uncertainly.

"I would say it's nice to see you again, Toby," Caleb began, "but I'm not sure this was the way to do it."

"Agreed."

"OKAY, ARE WE DONE HAVING THIS INCREDIBLY AWKWARD REUNION?" Spencer practically shrieked.

Hanna seemed to finally shake herself free of her shock, shaking her head as if to awaken herself. "Sorry!" She stepped away and slammed the door.

Toby and Spencer sat there for a moment, digesting what had happened. When they turned to look at each other, they both burst out in laughter.

"The look on Caleb's face...priceless," Toby declared through staggered breaths of mirth.

"We should get dressed and go out there," Spencer reasoned, still giggling. She was reaching over for Toby's pants and boxers; unfortunately his shirt was still somewhere in the living room.

"You're probably right."

Spencer gingerly stepped out of bed, approaching her dresser for a fresh outfit. Toby admired her naked body from his position on the bed, smiling to himself. She had the perfect figure.

"What are your plans for the day?" he inquired, hoping he was not moving things too fast.

She looked at him over her shoulder as she was fastening her bra and smiled. "Nothing...yet."

He grinned in response, pulling his boxers back on. "My army buddies and I are having a party tonight. Just the small kind," he began, standing and making his way over to her. She now had jeans on, and was still searching for a shirt she liked enough to wear. He slipped arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. "I'd like you to come. Hanna and Caleb too, if they'd like."

She turned to face him, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I'd love to meet them," she murmured, planting a short kiss on his lips. "Let me finish getting dressed real quick."

Toby mockingly groaned in annoyance, pulling on his jeans. "If you say so...But I like this view better."

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly and at last selected a simple Rosewood Lacrosse t-shirt, pulling it over her head and flinging her hair out of the collar. Toby sat on the bed, still unable to avert his eyes from her. She slowly approached him, taking both of his hands in her own and swinging their arms gently. "I love you."

"I love you too," he agreed, smiling. "Let's go make sure Hanna and Caleb haven't gauged their eyes out."

TO BE CONTINUED


	8. Caleb's Confusion

_**A/N**: Hey guys! Thanks for being patient. Again – this chapter is on the "shorter" side and I apologize for that, but knew you wanted updates!_

_Thanks everyone for the generous comments and adds! I really appreciate your support. I thrive off of feedback, so please let me know what you're thinking and what you'd like to see more of. I aim to please, to the best of my ability._

_Thanks again!_

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

The day seemed to drag on forever once Toby left for his afternoon shift on campus. Spencer immersed herself in school work that was not due for weeks, and played a handful of card games with Hanna and Caleb. When they thought she wasn't looking, she sometimes caught them analyzing her out of the corner of her eye. She knew that there was a million questions Hanna wanted to ask, but would not subject Spencer to it in front of her boyfriend. Caleb's glances seemed to read that he was still immensely uncomfortable about the earlier situation, but was attempting to squelch the painful image burning in his retinas.

When at long last Caleb announced that he was taking a shower, Hanna's eyes lit up; Spencer knew that this meant Q&A between the two girls, as she had been expecting. The door had barely clicked shut before Hanna leapt across one end of the couch to the other to position herself closer to Spencer's armchair.

"You need to explain some things. Immediately," she gushed, making no attempt to hide her delighted smile.

"Like what?"

"Um, what do you think?" Hanna demanded anxiously.

"You'll have to be more specific," Spencer said coyly, flipping off-handedly through pages of her textbook.

"Okay. Fine," Hanna began dangerously, flipping a lock of blond hair out of her eyes. "How the hell did Toby Cavanaugh end up naked in your bed, when yesterday you wouldn't even give him the time of day?"

Spencer chuckled lightly, at last relenting to replace her bookmark and set the text aside. "It's pretty complicated."

"I have time."

"I dunno…I'm not the type to kiss and tell…" Spencer argued.

"I don't think you understand," Hanna pressed insistently. "I want to know every. Sexy. Detail. I don't care how personal it is – you have to tell me."

Spencer sputtered in indignation. "Hanna - "

"You have no choice," Hanna decided, smoothing her skirt. Spencer saw the flicker of mischief in Hanna's eyes. "If you don't tell me, I'll just have to ask him myself."

"HANNA!"

"And you know I will."

Spencer pouted stubbornly. "He wouldn't tell you anything, anyway."

"That all depends."

Silence settled for a moment before Spencer sighed dejectedly and slammed her textbook on the coffee table with a definitive _WOMP._

"Fine. You want details? I'll give you details."

Hanna leaned forward eagerly, more excited than a child spying on Santa. Hanna, Spencer had to admit, was the perfect audience member – she "aw"ed, gasped, and laughed at all the right moments as she rehashed the night before. As the story wore on, Hanna's eyes grew progressively wider, until they were the size of teacup saucers. Spencer realized with chagrin that Hanna would never be this enamored in college lectures once school commenced; first and foremost she had always been, and forever would be, a gossip junkie.

"…And that's it," Spencer concluded, feeling completely violated in telling the entirety of the very personal tale.

"Oh. Em. Gee," Hanna breathed. "It's almost like you're in your own version of _The Notebook_. Spencer, your relationship is like a movie."

It felt nice to be told that she had the best of something. As usual, Spencer felt a balloon of slight cockiness swelling in her heart. "Well, it _was_ pretty amazing," she agreed, knowing full well that the smile that teased her lips was unavoidable.

"I wish Caleb still did romantic things like carry me to the bedroom," Hanna whined, plopping her chin in her hands sulkily. As if on cue, Caleb exited the bathroom in fresh clothes. Hanna sat up expectantly. "Caleb, why don't you do anything romantic anymore?"

Caleb looked like a deer in headlights, his toothbrush still hanging out of his mouth. "Uh…"

"Toby is a gentleman to Spencer," Hanna continued indignantly. "Why don't we ever play board games as foreplay?" Her arguments were coming out in an entirely random sequence.

Caleb looked completely confused. He extracted the frothy toothbrush from his mouth. "Wha – board games?"

"I should go," Spencer decided uncomfortably.

"No, you stay, I'll go," Hanna announced stubbornly. She purposefully knocked Caleb in the shoulder as she passed, harrumphing all the way to her bedroom before she slammed the door.

Caleb stared after her, open-mouthed, then looked back to Spencer inquisitively. "I don't get it."

"There's not much to get," Spencer laughed. "She'll be over it in two minutes."

Caleb sat down on the couch, looking around as though he had woken up in a stranger's house to find that he had grown two additional heads. He was muttering to himself distractedly before turning to Spencer and quietly demanding, "_Board games_?"

Spencer felt a blush rising in her cheeks. "I don't know what you're talking about," she stated nonchalantly, choosing to cover her face with her textbook as she continued her reading.

A moment of awkward silence befell them as Caleb hesitantly walked away to finish brushing his teeth. A few minutes passed before he emerged, resuming his previous seat. For several seconds he said nothing. Spencer eyed him, bemuse, knowing that he was still trying to process the entire incident.

"It's fine. Trust me," she offered.

He nodded uncertainly before glancing over at her. "What are you reading?"

Spencer knew he was simply making small talk; clearly he knew what she was reading, as her textbook donned bold black letters on the binding that read _INTRODUCTION TO PSYCHOLOGY_.

"Psych," she responded anyway. "Trying to get a head start."

"How very dedicated of you," he complimented. There was another pause. "When does that party start that you were talking about?" he asked.

Spencer lowered her book, trying to decide whether she was grateful that he continued to carry the conversation or annoyed that he kept interrupting her reading. "Like 7," she replied. "After Toby is off work."

"Ah. Where at?"

"Toby's apartment. He lives there with a few buddies from the army."

"Cool. What do they do?"

She adored Caleb. She really did. But she was becoming progressively more irritated with his persistence. She wished Hanna would get over it already and come out to save their undeniably awkward conversation.

"What do you mean?"

"Like…what's their M.O.S.?"

Spencer stared at him, confused. She had never heard the term before. And admittedly, this embarrassed her.

"Their military specialty," he expanded. "Like, what is their army career?"

"Oh." She paused. She realized she and Toby hadn't talked about it, actually. "I'm not sure."

"Oh."

The ticking of the clock on the far wall announced each uncomfortable second.

"Caleb," Hanna called from down the hall. _Finally. _"Can you help me change this light bulb?"

"Sure, babe," he replied eagerly, practically leaping off the couch. It seemed as though he was just as anxious as Spencer to find something to do. He made his way down the hallway and shut the door purposefully behind him. Spencer chuckled; they would undoubtedly be engaging in some 'private time' to make up for Caleb's earlier faux pas.

She attempted to immerse herself in her readings, but the squealing and giggling coming from Hanna's bedroom was admittedly distracting. She sighed heavily and resignedly put her book on the coffee table. Other than the romantic sound effects coming from down the hall, the apartment was considerably quiet. Too quiet. The type of silence where Spencer's mind was working at a million miles a minute, giving her the feeling of vertigo.

Perhaps coffee would help her focus. After all, she should at least try to get something done while she was waiting for Toby's party to start.

She began making her way into the kitchen when her phone beeped in her back pocket. It was a text from Toby.

"_Been thinking about you all day. Can't wait to see you._"

The butterflies in her stomach began doing acrobatics. She grinned and typed her response.

"_Same here. Counting the minutes._"

After pressing send, she leaned dazedly against the kitchen counter. Hanna, through all of her blunt confrontation, had certainly hit the nail on the head: Spencer had not had the faintest intent of talking to Toby 48 hours ago, and now she was freely allowing her high school emotions to re-emerge. She simply could not help it. He had always been able to understand her better than anybody else. And for that, alone, she would have loved him for eternity.

She lazily thumbed through her phone's pictures. Last night she had taken a photo of him lying shirtless in her bed, looking entirely exhausted and adorable. His beautiful eyes burned seductively, his crooked smile making Spencer's heart melt into molten lava.

She could hardly remember what her life had been like without him. It was as if she had been walking around in a fog for several months, only to finally have it lifted away to properly view and appreciate her surroundings. It was likened to having a near-death experience, and finding that all of the things you took for granted were suddenly significantly more precious. The coffee she was brewing, for instance, smelled sweeter than it ever had. She had even sat at her window for a while earlier to gaze out at the cloudless midday weather.

He made her happy. He made her feel alive.

She glanced at the clock and sighed heavily. It was only 4. How was it that three hours felt like a lifetime without seeing him, when she had gone almost two years? It was paradoxical, to say the least.

"All right, Spence," she muttered to herself, returning to the living room. "Get something done." She sat with her coffee and her text book and prepared to steel her mind to the task at hand, knowing that in the back of her head the clock would nevertheless haunt her for the next few hours.

TO BE CONTINUED


	9. Brotherhood

**_A/N: _**_Sorry so short again! Just punching them out where I feel they end nicely :-) _**  
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**CHAPTER EIGHT**

"I'm going to ask you one more time," Jeff Cody began, assessing Toby over the beer pong table. "Where were you last night?"

"Give it up, dude," Andy Lancaster protested. "He's not budging."

"I told you, I crashed at a friend's place," Toby insisted, busying himself by setting the red solo cups out. It wasn't a lie, really – Hanna was his friend, and it was just as much her apartment as Spencer's.

"And I call bull shit on that," Cody retaliated. "I think you hooked up with your ex-girlfriend."

Toby rolled his eyes. "If I did, it wouldn't be any of your business."

"You totally did!" Cody declared, slamming his hands triumphantly on the table.

Toby felt trapped by this accusation. "It's none of your business," he repeated.

"Cavanaugh, you dog," Lancaster laughed. "After all this time and she's still interested. You got lucky, dude."

Toby smiled slightly. He knew that Lancaster was right – he had been fortunate that Spencer had still harbored the same feelings as she did in high school. He would have admittedly been heartbroken if she hadn't.

He had never stopped loving her, and had known deep down that it wasn't the end. If, after running into her at the bar – after all of the vows he made to win her back – she didn't still love him, he wouldn't have known how to process the information.

"So what happened?" Cody pressed, smirking mischievously.

Toby rolled his eyes. "I never took you for a gossip queen, Cody."

"It is what it is," Cody replied simply. "When my friends get laid by hot girls, I like to know details."

Toby cringed at Cody's description of "hot" in reference to Spencer. He was not comfortable with this opinion in the slightest.

"Well, you won't get any." Toby trained his eyes on the beer pong table, hoping for someone to change the subject.

"Well – was it good?" Cody demanded.

Toby stopped with the cups, raising his eyes to send a warning glare in Cody's direction. "This discussion is over."

"I mean," Cody amended quickly, sensing that he had crossed a line, "are you guys getting back together?"

"I don't know," Toby said quietly, studying the cups with intensity. "I'd like to think so."

"You don't sound so sure about her," Cody observed. "Well, do me a favor and let me know what you decide."

"Why?" Toby demanded.

Cody shrugged. "She's cute. And if things don't work out…"

The plastic cup in Toby's hand was crushed as he dangerously tightened his fists.

"It's not going to happen, man," Derek Holmes quipped. "That violates the bro code in so many ways. Let it go."

"Fine, fine," Cody resigned, tossing a practice Ping-Pong ball into one of Toby's solo cups. "Just a thought."

"Well I think it's best if you just stop thinking all-together," Lancaster laughed. "For your own good."

"I'll start filling the cooler," Toby decided, anxious for an out. As he began heading for the garage, he attempted to calm the boiling blood in his veins. Though Cody was a brother in arms, and his friend, he certainly had a way of pissing Toby off better than anybody in his life ever had.

He stopped at Holmes's Mazda, leaning on the hood to steady his breathing. He attempted to remind himself that Cody was all talk; he was a classic guy, after all – he was driven entirely by his own libido. He didn't stop to think whether his lust was offensive to anyone around him.

But he should have probably started to get the point a long time ago.

The garage door opened behind him, squeaking on its hinges. Toby immediately collected himself and set off to finish his task.

"You cool, man?" It was Holmes. As usual.

"You know," Toby began slowly as he unearthed the cooler from a utility shelf, "he needs to learn to keep his dick in his pants if he wants to continue having it."

Holmes chuckled and leaned against his Mazda thoughtfully. "You know how he gets, man. He wants most what he can't have."

Toby laughed bitterly. "I always knew Cody had a thing for unavailable girls. But I guess I never took it personally before because mine was never the target."

"Well," Holmes began quietly, "you were never with anyone. Since we've known you."

Toby digested the gravity of this statement. He was right – Toby had only gone on a handful of casual dates since he and Spencer had broken up. And the primary reason for that, even, was a desperate attempt to take his mind off of her. It never quite worked…which somewhere deep down, he had instinctively known all along.

"I guess I'm just learning who my friends are," Toby decided finally, as he heaved a ten pound bag of ice out of the freezer.

"You know that if it came down to it, he would have your back," Holmes said. "It's what we do."

"I hope so," Toby muttered. He knew that his statement probably went unheard by Holmes over the clatter of ice being dumped into the cooler.

"And if he didn't," Holmes continued, "I definitely would."

Toby looked at him thoughtfully, truly studying his demeanor and sincerity. Derek Holmes was one of the few black men in his unit, having hailed from Savanna, Georgia. He was small in stature, but hid his power well.

Toby recalled that during basic training, a cocky soldier with arms built like tree trunks had been giving him a hard time. The soldier, Lewis, had crossed the proverbial line when he tripped Toby one day in the DFAC, causing him to spill his entire tray of lunch. He had sat there dejectedly on the floor for a minute, realizing that he had made a grave mistake in leaving Rosewood.

Holmes had calmly walked up to Lewis. "What do we have here?" he had asked.

Lewis balked at his arrival, appearing inexplicably intimidated. "Just having some fun with the new guy…"

"I see," Holmes had declared darkly. He and Toby locked eyes for what seemed like an eternity before Holmes orchestrated his next move. "It seems we've wasted some perfectly good chow. That's a shame."

Lewis gulped.

Holmes turned back to him, crossing his arms over his uniformed chest. "Waste not, want not. Right, Lewis?"

Lewis shook his head in confusion.

"You heard me," Holmes declared. He grabbed Lewis by the forearm and easily lifted him from his seat. Lewis stumbled clumsily onto the floor, beside Toby. "There are children starving in China."

"No…" Lewis began nervously, staring at the grimy floor of the dining facility. "Holmes, come on…"

"Eat it," Holmes commanded. "Before I make you."

Lewis hovered over the spilled food in consideration. Toby could see in his eyes that the wheels were turning rapidly in his brain. He feared what would come next.

It all happened in a flash. Lewis turned quickly to strike Holmes in the stomach; Holmes easily blocked his punch and retaliated by twisting Lewis's throwing arm behind his back and using this leverage to force him back to the ground. Carried away, he began slamming Lewis's face into the food on the concrete floor repeatedly until he heard the cartilage in his nose crack. Toby backed away from the pool of blood forming at his knees.

The commander had broken up the tussle. Holmes was confined to solitary holding for two days and assigned K.P. for the remainder of the week. But since then, Toby and Holmes had formed an inexplicable bond. He was the only soldier that got assigned to the same unit as Toby following basic training. And Toby was eternally grateful for that fate.

When Holmes said he had his back, Toby knew he meant it.

"What's on your mind?" Holmes inquired, jarring Toby from his recollections.

"Nothing really," Toby offered quietly. He paused. "Thanks, man."

Holmes chuckled and clapped Toby on the back. "Don't thank me yet. We have yet to see if he even tries to pull any bull shit."

Toby smiled appreciatively.

"Don't worry, man," Holmes continued. "If he so much as looks at Spencer the wrong way, we'll teach him a lesson."

"If he so much as looks at her the wrong way, his eyes are going to be gauged out," Toby vowed irritably.

Holmes laughed. "You've come such a long way from the kid I met in basic."

Toby chuckled, finding it ironic that he had been thinking about this only moments before.

"You know how to hold your own, now," Holmes complimented. "You don't need my help the way you used to."

"I never needed your help," Toby protested good-naturedly. "I had it handled."

Holmes rolled his eyes. "Right. Just like you had it 'handled' when you were getting constantly butt-hurt by Lewis."

Toby found himself grateful that Holmes had as clear of a memory of the incident as Toby did. It felt nice to know that the event had taught him something, too.

"I hear Lewis got discharged," Holmes added. "Drugs."

Toby laughed bitterly. "Doesn't surprise me."

"Karma, my man," Holmes added. "Now let's get this shit back in the house before they send a search party," Holmes decided as he began assisting Toby with the cooler.

TO BE CONTINUED


	10. The Party

**CHAPTER NINE**

Two grueling hours. That's how long it had taken Spencer to get ready for Toby's party. No outfit or hairstyle seemed to quite do the trick; and she wanted to be dressed to impress. All of her clothes seemed to scream 'boring college student,' and the Michigan humidity was cruel to her tresses. It seemed to be taking forever to prepare, and time was running out. They would surely be late.

At long last, Hanna had pulled out some last minute stops to assist Spencer in "sexing it up," as she had put it. Spencer had admittedly never felt as much like a girly-girl as she did tonight, fawning over perfect make-up and clothing the way that she had.

"Stop it. You look fine," Hanna growled as the trio approached the threshold of Toby's co-op. Spencer had been fixing her hair in what she thought was an undetectable manner. Hanna, however, had eyes in the back of her damn head.

"I want his friends to like me," Spencer muttered. Toby had never really had many friends in high school, so this was brand new territory.

"Everybody likes you, Spencer," Caleb droned as he exhaled heavily in a sigh. Great. Even _he_ was irritated by her perfectionism.

"I feel silly," Spencer argued, looking down at the dress she had borrowed from Hanna. The plunging neckline and hiked skirting left very little to the imagination.

"You look awesome," Hanna declared. "Now ring the damn door bell."

Spencer nervously stepped onto the porch. She could hear the music blaring inside, wondering what Toby's definition of a 'small kind of party' was. Surely there would be all sorts of reckless college students, looking for a last hurrah before classes began in two days.

Just as she raised a tentative finger to press the bell, the door swung open. Out came two guys she did not recognize, as well as the black man Toby had been sitting with at the bar.

"Spencer!" he announced happily. She was surprised he knew her name. "And you two must be Hanna and Caleb."

"That'd be us," Caleb agreed.

"Hey – HEY – I said you have to go around the other side of the garage!" Toby's friend yelled in the direction of the people he had emerged with. They were huddled at the end of the deck. "Last thing a goddamn black man needs is a couple of kids smoking a doobie on his front porch."

The two guys laughed good-naturedly, but nonetheless did as they were told and disappeared around the far corner of the house.

"Sorry about that," he told Spencer. "Had to bring them outside before they lit that shit up in my kitchen."

She smiled hesitantly.

"I'm Derek Holmes," he said at last, reaching his free hand out to shake. The other held a beer.

"Spencer," she announced, taking the proffered hand. "But I guess you already knew that."

"Only because I've heard such great things." He winked and grinned. "Nice to officially meet you. Come inside! Toby's been wondering where you are." With that, he chivalrously pulled the door open and held it for the three new guests.

Hanna leaned close to Spencer, linking an arm through hers. "See? Nothing to worry about," she whispered giddily.

Spencer smiled. Right. Nothing to worry about. Holmes had been quite gracious and welcoming…Hopefully the remainder of Toby's friends would be just as warm and friendly.

The party was much larger than Spencer had anticipated based on Toby's description. It appeared that around every corner was a new group of faces she had not yet seen. Holmes was leading them through the crowd of people into the kitchen. And there Toby stood, next to a refreshment table; he was hard to miss in Spencer's eyes, for he was easily the most attractive man in the house. He wore a blue button-down shirt, which brought out his piercing eyes even more than usual.

"Hey Cavanaugh, look who I found."

Toby turned and instantly grinned. Spencer's knees wobbled.

"Hey, beautiful," he greeted, wrapping his arms around the small of her back in a gentle hug. Though it had only been a few hours, the embrace made Spencer feel as though she had missed him for an eternity. He pulled back and planted a kiss on her forehead. "You look great."

"Thanks," she mumbled anxiously. She still felt as though her outfit was far more scandalous than she was used to.

"Glad you guys could make it," Toby said to Hanna and Caleb, who Spencer had momentarily forgotten about.

"Where are the drinks?" Hanna asked immediately. Typical.

"There's a cooler in the living room, and some spiked punch here," Toby explained, gesturing to the refreshment table beside him.

"Wonderful," Hanna declared, hastily grabbing a red solo cup. Caleb rolled his eyes.

"Take it slow, babe."

"I got it," Hanna protested, quickly kissing him on the cheek.

"Whoa-ho!" a voice cried from behind Spencer. She turned to see another of Toby's friends from the bar. Like the others, this guy was certainly built for the army; he was nearly a head taller than Toby, with biceps that threatened to burst out of his t-shirt. His blond hair was kept at a short buzz, which Spencer was growing accustomed to seeing. His fair, freckled complexion was flushed, undoubtedly from the alcohol he'd been consuming.

"Looks like the party is here! Nice to see you again, Table-Crasher!" he announced, patting a hand on Spencer's shoulder. She blushed slightly at his joke regarding their first meeting. "I'm Jeff Cody."

"Spencer," she replied loudly to be heard above the music, offering a hand to shake. He accepted, holding on a little longer than necessary.

"We're about to get a round of beer pong started," he explained, taking a swig from his solo cup. "Would you like to join?"

"You can be on my team," Holmes quipped, quickly claiming Spencer by slinging his arm around her shoulders. She laughed.

"I've never played before."

"It's all right, we got this," Holmes encouraged with another bright grin.

"All right, all right," Cody declared, rubbing his hands together. "Cavanaugh and me, verse you two."

Toby smiled. "Game on."

As the three boys led Spencer toward the living room, she anxiously looked back for Hanna and Caleb. They had disappeared. She felt a small bubble of panic rising in her chest; having them by her side had provided the additional comfort she needed – and now they were nowhere to be found.

"Call it in the air," Cody announced as they approached the game set-up. He had brandished a quarter from his pocket.

"Tails," Holmes decided. Cody easily caught the coin in his palm and flipped it onto the back of his hand.

"Tails it is."

"We go first," Holmes explained to Spencer. "Let's show them how it's done."

Spencer quickly forgot about Hanna and Caleb's absence as the game progressed; she and Holmes were winning by a long-shot, and he offered endless support, continuously complimenting her beginner's luck.

"It's not luck. It's skill," she defended as she sunk the Ping-Pong ball in the second-to-last remaining cup on the opposite end of the table.

"You'll learn this about Spencer quickly," Toby mused, hands tucked in his pockets. "She's good at everything."

"_Everything_, huh?" Cody chuckled as he took aim. Spencer distinctly noticed the meaningful look exchanged between Toby and Holmes, but was unable to decipher its meaning.

"You know, Cody," Holmes began loudly, "When Lancaster was drunk the other night, he told me the funniest story about how pissed your pants your first day of basic training."

Cody fumbled the ball upon hearing this, nearly knocking over his own drink in the process. If possible, the flush in his cheeks increased tenfold.

"He's full of shit," Cody sputtered.

"I dunno, man," Holmes continued. "The story seemed pretty legit to me."

Spencer noticed that behind Cody, Toby was stifling his laughter with his fist.

"They trained us for 15 hours without a break," Cody defended, feigning confidence. "What the hell would you have done if you had to take a leak? I was proving a point."

"That's sick, man," Holmes laughed as he scored the last cup. Spencer could not help it; she began giggling as well. Holmes good-naturedly knocked elbows with her a few times in amusement.

"Whatever, dude," Cody declared angrily, finishing the last of his beverage and irritably tossing the empty cup on the ground in front of Toby. He stormed away.

"Sometimes you gotta put him in his place," Holmes explained. "He gets cocky, you see."

Spencer laughed. "I got the impression."

"Spencerrr! There you are!" Hanna declared happily as she stumbled up behind them. Caleb slung his arm around her waist to keep her steady. She leaned towards Spencer, grabbing onto her forearms and lowering her face unnecessarily close. "This punch is phenomenal," she slurred.

"A little too phenomenal," Caleb joked. "She's been drinking it like water."

"Maybe you should slow down," Spencer laughed, helping Hanna right herself once more.

"Maybe you should have one with me!" Hanna said loudly, swinging her arms out in a grand gesture. "C'mon!" Before she could protest, Hanna had grabbed hold of Spencer's arm and was dragging her back toward the kitchen.

"I'll be right back," Spencer announced over her shoulder to Toby and Holmes. Caleb remained behind, gesturing that the beer pong table should be reset so he could join the game.

Hanna tumbled clumsily into the kitchen, nearly stumbling into a random girl. "This stuff is fantastic," she repeated as she began ladling another serving into her empty cup. "Best. Shit. Everrrr."

"Maybe I should try it," Spencer quipped, slowly taking the cup from Hanna's hand; it was clear she needed to take a few minutes to gather her composure.

"Yeah! Yeah, have mine!" Hanna agreed flippantly, oblivious to the trick Spencer had played. "I need to pee anyway. B.R.B.!" she announced, precariously skipping out of the kitchen.

Spencer rolled her eyes in amusement, taking a sip of the punch she had confiscated. Hanna was right – it was pretty good.

"Hello again."

She turned to look for the source of the voice. It was Cody, sipping a beer on one of the kitchen bar stools. He gestured to the chair beside him, which Spencer accepted.

"Sorry we kicked your ass," she laughed as she sat down. "Good game though."

"You were really good for your first time," he agreed, absent-mindedly wiping away some of the condensation on his beer bottle with his thumb. "So, how are things with Cavanaugh?"

Spencer grinned. "They're quite good, actually." She took another sip of her punch.

"Small world, huh? They way you guys ran into each other after all this time?"

Spencer couldn't agree more. She had been considering this bizarre occurrence of serendipity for the past 48 hours, unable to quite fathom the odds. "It's amazing," she replied.

"I hope you'll be the one to finally settle him down," Cody offered, patting her on the hand.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Cody began carefully, glancing over his shoulder. "You know Toby…he's a little on the wild side when it comes to dating."

Spencer's smile faltered slightly. "I don't understand."

"Let's just say I've woken up to a lot of random girls in our shower," Cody muttered.

Spencer attempted to control the pace in which her heart had begun beating. Surely Cody was embellishing.

"He couldn't wait to tell us about his latest conquest this afternoon," he continued. "He wouldn't shut up about how great you were in the sack."

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. He had to be lying.

"I suppose he just feels like he needs to live a little before he deploys next month."

Her heart froze over. "D-deploys?"

"He volunteered to go to Afghanistan," Cody continued, raising an eyebrow. "He didn't tell you?"

"No…he didn't," Spencer whispered, staring intently at the contents of her cup. She was attempting to will away the stinging that had begun in the corners of her eyes.

"Oh…I'm sorry…I didn't know…" He reached out and rubbed her back apologetically.

"It's fine," she declared uncomfortably, leaning away from him and standing up. "Thanks for letting me know."

Cody nodded somberly. "I just don't want to see him hurt anyone else. You seem like a nice girl…"

"Yeah," Spencer replied distantly. She looked over the bar counter and into the living room, where she saw Toby talking with the girl Hanna had nearly mowed over earlier. She felt her blood boiling in her veins.

"You should talk to him," Cody urged. "He deserves to know how you feel."

"Right," Spencer mumbled. She downed the remainder of her drink and began pouring another to steel herself for the task at hand.

She took a deep breath and marched out into the living room. The girl was leaning unsettlingly close to Toby now, surely trying to pull off the whole "it's too loud to hear you so I better get really close" trick.

"Go," Spencer commanded as she approached them. The girl opened and closed her mouth several times in confusion.

"I just – "

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY SIGHT," Spencer practically shrieked. The girl quickly obeyed.

"Spencer," Toby declared, aghast. "What's the matter?"

"What's the _matter_?" Spencer cried, knowing that it would only be a matter of time before the tears would win out. The feeling of the alcohol in her system was causing her to neglect the other people in the room. As far as she was concerned, it was just her and Toby right now. "Who the hell was she? Did you fuck her too?"

Toby's mouth fell open. "What are you talking about? Of course not – "

"Don't lie to me!" Spencer interrupted. She was vaguely aware that she was causing a scene. "I heard all about how you want to have one last hurrah before Afghanistan."

Toby closed his mouth and gulped. "Spencer…listen…"

"No," she decided definitively. "I'm done listening to you." With that, she dropped her empty cup and bee-lined for the front door.

"Spencer! Wait!" Toby yelled, attempting to push past party goers in his way. She was gone before he even digested what had happened.

"What was that about?" Lancaster inquired quietly as people slowly went back to what they were doing.

Toby stared at the closed door, internally weighing the pros and cons of following after her. She would certainly need her space; at least for a little while. He knew from experience that there was no calming her down when she was at her angriest. But he wanted nothing more than to know what on earth she meant…

"I have no idea," he breathed helplessly.

TO BE CONTINUED


	11. Nothing Gold Can Stay

**CHAPTER TEN**

Spencer spent much of the next few days locked in her room. When Toby called, she refused to answer. When anybody knocked on the door, she forbade Hanna to open it. She didn't care how irrational she was being – she was done having her heart broken.

"I bet Cody just said those things to get in your pants," Hanna had protested. "Toby's not like that."

"I know," Spencer had agreed, "but the look on his face when I brought up Afghanistan was unmistakable. And I can't forgive him for not telling me that."

And she meant it. Somewhere deep down, she knew that Cody was probably lying about Toby's sexual escapades. Even Toby had seemed irrefutably baffled by the accusation. She had calmed down slightly about that. But the way his face fell when deployment came up…well, that just wasn't acceptable. It was totally unfair of him to swoop back into her life only to plan on leaving again.

The beginning of the semester came and went. Both Hanna and Spencer began busying themselves with their studies. Many an evening was now spent quietly sharing a pot of coffee and hitting the books. Friday night, Hanna insisted on going out again. Spencer refused, allowing Hanna to go on her way. It was 3 in the morning when she returned, to find Spencer still curled up in the armchair feverishly writing a paper on her laptop.

"You need some sleep, Spence," Hanna had stated. There was the distinct smell of alcohol on her breath, though she was completely coherent.

"There's a lot of work to do," she had muttered in response.

Hanna had paused behind the couch, distractedly running her hands along its stitching pattern. "I saw Toby at the bar tonight."

"Mmm," Spencer mumbled noncommittally. Hanna waited a moment to see if any further response would come; it did not. She had retreated to her room with a heavy sigh of resignation. Spencer refused to allow herself to think of it any further, continuing to bury herself in assignments that weren't due for weeks.

Spencer was continuing her homework ritual on Saturday morning, having entered well into advance projects. She was working on things that weren't due until October.

"_Please call me. We need to talk. I love you._" This was the latest text message he had sent her. It read much like the others: nothing of explanation or defense. That's what made her decide that it had to be true. If it wasn't, he would have surely said it by now.

"You need to talk to him some time," Hanna quipped, emerging from her bedroom in a nightgown and bathrobe. Her hair was tangled and askew, indicating that she had just woken up.

"Says who?" Spencer demanded, not raising her eyes from her computer.

Hanna paused behind the screen, placing a stubborn hand on her hip. "Did you even go to bed last night?"

"I don't remember," Spencer said distractedly.

Hanna threw her hands in the air in exasperation. "That's it." She slammed Spencer's laptop shut with one hand, nearly amputating her fingers.

"Hanna!"

"You haven't seen the light of day in almost a week," Hanna argued. "As your friend, I can't let it continue."

"I have homework!"

"That's not due for months," Hanna corrected. "Keep at it and you'll have your whole Bachelor's degree done by next week."

Spencer continued to stare at her closed computer helplessly. "I need to take my mind off things," she muttered. It was the first time in days that her mind was beginning to wander. Keeping up on her schoolwork had been a satisfactory distraction; now, however, as she looked around the room, the wound was beginning to re-open, as if salt had been poured on it. Her heart felt strangled but her body was numb. It took every ounce of strength not to run back to her bedroom, close the door, and collapse on her bed in sobs.

"Spence, c'mon," Hanna urged softly, seating herself on the arm of Spencer's chair. "Keeping busy won't make it go away."

"I know," Spencer agreed, unable to keep the whine from her voice. "But the longer I can put it off, the better I feel."

"Is that really true?" Hanna challenged, raising an eyebrow. Spencer did not respond. She knew that her answer would not be in her own favor.

"Listen," Hanna began, "I have a mission for you. And I won't take no for an answer."

Spencer looked at her expectantly.

"We're out of coffee. And, well, that's just not gonna fly."

Spencer creased her brow in confusion. "How can we be out?"

"You've been at the books like a crazy person," Hanna quipped. "You've been drinking it nonstop."

"Oh." She felt suddenly foolish.

"So," Hanna continued, "I think it's fair that you go pick some up for us."

Spencer considered this for a minute. She didn't feel like leaving the apartment. Not in Hanna's wildest dreams. But coffee was an immediate necessity. And she had the distinct feeling that Hanna could live without it more easily than she, even if it was just to prove a point.

"Can I just pick something up at the coffee shop?" Spencer asked meekly. Starbucks was merely a couple blocks away, and would be an easy trek there and back. Minimal chance of running into anyone she wasn't prepared to.

"Sure," Hanna sighed. "Anything will do at this point. Caramel macchiato. Skim." With that, she raised herself from her seat and headed for the bathroom. Spencer sat alone on the chair for a minute, steeling herself for the task at hand. It was like dealing with 'A' all over again; scared to leave the house, scared to step a toe out of line. She was admittedly scared to death.

Nevertheless, she slowly began pulling on her sweater. It had gotten chilly over the past couple of days, as if the cold front had just been waiting in the shadows to emerge on the first day of school. It was symbolic in several ways. More ways than Spencer was willing to analyze. She carelessly slipped on a pair of Hanna's ballet flats, grabbed her purse, and was out the door.

Once outside, she had to admit that the fresh air tasted good on her tongue. It felt as though she had isolated herself for months rather than days. Though she would have preferred sunnier weather than was present, she was immediately grateful for Hanna's forceful nature.

Campus was quiet. Then again, it was early on a Saturday morning; surely everyone was sleeping in due to late nights and hangovers. It was unusual to be around when the hustle and bustle was on the downward track though. She was accustomed to dozens of other students making their way into central campus. Today, it seemed rather dead.

The heat was on in Starbucks, for which she was grateful. She approached the counter quickly, knowing that she had no desire to be around people for too long.

"Skim caramel macchiato and a venti peppermint mocha," she ordered, self-consciously twisting a lock of hair on her finger. She hadn't felt anxiety like this in months. It was as though her biggest weaknesses were rearing their ugly heads simultaneously, causing her to feel entirely helpless to their predation.

Just as the baristas were handing her coffees over, she heard a voice that made her blood run cold.

"Hey! Table-Crasher!"

Cody.

She didn't want to turn around. Would he notice if she simply grabbed her coffee and ran? Or perhaps if she tucked and rolled like a secret agent back to the door, undetected?

"Spencer! Come here!"

She slowly swiveled and forced a smile. "Jeff. Hi."

He was sitting at a nearby table with a banana nut muffin and espresso, working on his laptop. He was dressed down compared to the last time she saw him, for now he donned a simple hoodie and pair of sweat pants.

"Got a minute?"

"Not really, I have to get Hanna's coffee – "

"Just two minutes. It'll stay warm."

She hesitantly stood at the barista counter, feeling unbearably awkward. If she left, she was a bitch. If she stayed, sudden death was imminent.

"Two minutes," she conceded at last as she took a hesitant seat across from him, rationalizing that there was nothing any more eventful to return to at home.

"How have you been?" he asked, making a point to close his laptop to provide undivided attention to her.

She scoffed bitterly. "How do you think I've been?"

He nodded somberly. "I know…I'm sorry. I can't believe he didn't say anything to you before."

Spencer shrugged indifferently. "It is what it is," she stated, fighting to keep the conversation completely arbitrary.

"He's been pretty beat up," Cody began, crossing his arms on the table in front of him. "He really needs to talk to you…"

"There's nothing to say." Spencer sipped on her coffee, bound and determined to make the exchange as short as humanly possible.

"I know it's hard," Cody began softly, "and I can't believe he was so dishonest about it with you."

As much as she didn't want to buy into his support, she could see that he was being genuine. His green eyes were soul bearing, eager to share sympathy with her.

Nevertheless, she didn't respond.

"Not all of us are like that, you know," he added. "I, for one, think it's really important to be honest with someone you're into."

She nodded half-heartedly.

"For instance," he started, clearing his throat uncomfortably, "I find you to be a beautiful, smart, funny girl. And I think it's important that you know that. That you know there are other men who will value you the way you deserve."

She lowered her eyes to the coffee cup before her, struggling to keep the blush from rising in her cheeks. She had the distinct feeling that she was being hit on; but only part of her was uncomfortable with it. The other part was selfishly flattered.

He laughed awkwardly. "Wow. I can't believe I said that." She smiled hesitantly in response. "Not that I could ever take it any farther…I mean, you're Toby's…"

Wrong thing to say. Spencer became suddenly brazen, as though she had been struck with a whip. "I don't belong to anyone."

"No, no, that's not what I meant," Cody began quickly. "Those were his words, not mine."

She gazed at him questioningly.

"I mean, he said that everyone had to stay away from 'his girl.' That's all," Cody defended. Spencer's bullshit radar was in full commission, attempting to read how much of Cody's monologue was sincere.

"Please, that's not how he meant it," he pleaded. "Seriously."

"Fine." Spencer leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms stubbornly, eyes trained on the table. She noticed that beside his muffin was a novel. _One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest_, to be precise.

"Are you reading that?" she asked curiously, momentarily forgetting her irritation.

"Yeah, for like, the eightieth time," he laughed. "It's my favorite book."

She smiled. "It's one of mine, too."

"Ken Kesey is brilliant," he continued. "The way he connotes McMurphy with Jesus Christ is mind-blowing."

Spencer's heart fluttered in slight. The last time she had heard the word 'connote' was out of her own mouth. Intellectual conversation was her most valued quality in a person.

"Did you ever read _Fahrenheit 451_?" he continued. She nodded. "That's another great piece of work. Darkly satirical, really, in regard to where our society is headed."

She wasn't going to lie. She was intrigued by his literary analysis.

"Sorry," he chuckled, looking as though he suddenly felt self-conscious. "Literature major. Not that it will take me far unless I teach…"

"You're a lit major?" she breathed. It had been one of her first choices, but had been immediately discounted when she considered the job market available for it.

He nodded. "My dad was the English teacher at my high school. He raised me and my sister on classic novels. I don't know what I would do without my literacy. Books take me into a totally different realm…I can't describe it."

She knew precisely what he meant.

"Poetry, too," he continued. "_Nothing Gold Can Stay_ by Robert Frost changed my life. It's as though he wrote it for me." He paused. "I had a pretty messed up childhood…that poem epitomized it while simultaneously comforting the pain."

"It's a fantastic poem," she agreed. "Walt Whitman is my personal favorite."

"There's a poetry reading here tonight," he began hesitantly. "I have to attend it for a class. I'm interested in it regardless though." He looked to her inquisitively. "Would you like to join me?"

She felt the proverbial cane pulling her by the waist, thrusting her back into reality. So what if he was brilliant? And a literature major? And an expert flatterer? It didn't change the way she felt about Toby. And it certainly didn't make her want to date him. He was good-looking, sure; but she would be holding off from dating for a long, long time. She was going to focus on school. That was that.

A poetry reading was academic though. Right? Harmless…

She took a deep breath. "What time does it start?"

* * *

><p>Cody entered the house with a skip in his step. He tossed his laptop bag carelessly on the kitchen counter, making a beeline for Lancaster on the couch. He plopped down beside him. "Where's Cavanaugh?" he inquired quietly.<p>

"Work," Lancaster said distractedly, neglecting to look up from his video game.

"Holmes?"

"Dunno. Why?"

"Guess who I just scored a mother-fucking date with?" Cody boasted, buffing his fingernails on his shoulder.

Lancaster paused the game and looked at his friend warningly. "You didn't…"

"I did." Cody leapt off the couch and stood up, feeling suddenly energized. "My poetry nonsense actually paid off for once."

Lancaster shook his head disapprovingly. "You're an asshole, dude."

"Why? I wasn't the one that broke her heart," Cody defended. "I plan on getting a piece of that as soon as I can."

A light bulb seemed to go off in Lancaster's head as his mouth fell agape. "It was you that fed her all the bull shit about Cavanaugh sleeping around." It was an accusation, not a question.

"Brilliant deduction, Watson," Cody said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Not my fault he couldn't convince her otherwise."

Lancaster irritably tossed the Xbox controller to the floor, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "You are treading on dangerous ground. He's going to kill you."

"You're not going to tell him though. _Are_ you?" Cody demanded threateningly, crossing his arms over his well-exercised chest.

Lancaster shook his head in resignation. "I'm not getting involved."

"That's what I like to hear," Cody declared happily. "I'll let you know how she is in bed."

Lancaster squared his chin in disapproval, but said nothing.

"Well," Cody continued, rubbing his hands together as though he had completed a successful business transaction. "Time to start getting ready." With that, he retreated to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. The sound of the shower being flipped on echoed from down the hall.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Lancaster lifted his head in alarm. There stood Holmes in the garage doorway, looking infuriated.

TO BE CONTINUED


	12. Stab in the Back

_**A/N:** Sorry about the delay everyone! Grad school is hard work, haha. I've been so happy to see all your comments though about missing my updates! Hope you enjoy this one!_

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

Holmes didn't stick around for long. After berating Lancaster for his complicit attitude and hocking a loogy in Cody's protein shake blend to alleviate some of his rage, he set off quickly to find Toby at work. First of all, he knew he had to get out of the house before Cody was done showering; if he didn't, he would not be responsible for his own actions. Also, he knew how important it was to warn Toby and calm him down before he got home – otherwise, there would likely be a team-effort homicide on their hands.

It was a Saturday, so he knew that Toby would be having a slow day. With so many students staying in for the weekend, there was not much action to work with. On these days, Toby could typically be found reading a book in the Diag. And Holmes instinctively knew that's where he would be.

And sure enough, there he was: seated on a bench near the Hatcher Graduate Library, in full university security uniform, flipping through the pages of _The Catcher in the Rye._ He didn't notice as Holmes approached – he was far too engaged in his book.

Holmes paused for a moment, trying to decide how to most delicately approach the situation. Should he just blurt it out, like ripping off a Band-Aid? Or should he ease Toby into the news, so as to better control his emotional reaction?

Screw it, he decided, knowing that he was personally far too angry to take it slow.

"Cavanaugh."

Toby looked up curiously. "Holmes," he stated, surprised. Holmes used to visit Toby at work on a frequent basis, until he had enrolled in summer courses. Since then, he had been less reliable in his cameos.

"We need to talk, man. And you're not going to like what I have to say."

Toby lowered his book carefully, his expressive eyes tainted with panic. "Is it Spencer? Is she hurt?"

"Worse," Holmes breathed, feeling suddenly winded. Though he was physically fit by army standards, he had not noticed the quickened pace at which he had run from the house and to the Diag. It was a good mile and a half that he had breached in less than three minutes.

"Worse?" Toby demanded, standing. "How could it be worse?"

"It's Cody." Toby's eyes flashed dangerously. "I overheard him telling Lancaster that he was the one that put all that shit in her head about you."

Toby tightened his grip on the book, bending the cover. "I'm going to kill him."

"It gets worse."

Toby scoffed irritably. "Again?"

"He ran into her today – something about taking her to a poetry reading tonight – he said he's going to try to get laid."

Toby visibly clenched his teeth, curling his book into a cylindrical shape. "She wouldn't do anything," he murmured darkly, appearing more that he was trying to convince himself than Holmes.

"Maybe not," Holmes said slowly, "but what about Cody?"

This dangerous possibility ruminated in the space between them for a moment as they both considered the implications. Toby was positively shaking with rage.

"He's a dead man," he vowed, grabbing his water from the bench and beginning to hastily stride back in the direction of the house. Holmes had to run to keep up with him, as he was considerably short in comparison.

"What are you going to do?" Holmes demanded.

"Kill him with my bare hands," Toby declared with deadpan, as though it were obvious.

"Be realistic, man," Holmes protested, catching up to Toby and walking backwards so as to face him. "You can't go back there unless you have a plan."

Toby stopped abruptly, nearly running into Holmes. He studied him carefully for a moment before speaking. "I thought you said you'd have my back."

"Dude. You know I do," Holmes agreed. "But you know that if we go back there and kick his ass, we face the possibility of not only legal shit, but also being discharged. Any assault charges on our records and we're out of the army forever."

Toby exhaled heavily, a hint of a growl in his breath.

"I want him to bleed as much as you do," Holmes continued. "But we have to think about what happens after that."

Toby shook his head dejectedly, his jaw still squared stubbornly. "Then what the hell do we do?"

Holmes sighed heavily. Now came the tricky part…coming up with a way to fix it without using physical force. Not exactly his forte.

"We wait. We wait for him to pull something…which we know he will." Toby's volatile grip on his water bottle did not go unnoticed by Holmes. "And we confront him…and if we're lucky, _then_ we have an excuse to kick his ass."

Toby scoffed and rolled his eyes impatiently. "That's ridiculous, Holmes. We can't just wait around for him to do something…What if Spencer falls for his act before we get our opportunity?"

Holmes considered this for a moment, the wheels turning rapidly. "Okay. So they're going to that poetry reading, right?" Toby nodded exasperatedly. "Okay. Then that's where we'll start."

"I can't imagine the poetry reading will be terribly packed," Toby reasoned sarcastically. "They'll see that we're there."

Holmes threw up his hands in frustration. "I dunno man, you got a better plan?"

"Yeah. Kill him."

"Cavanaugh," Holmes began slowly, attempting to further rationalize his argument. "As much of a dick as he is, he hasn't actually done anything other than be his usual douchebag self."

Toby seemed to turn this over in his head. True – Cody had overstepped his boundaries by asking Spencer out – but unfortunately, Holmes was right…Toby had to choose his battles wisely.

Toby was biting down so fiercely on the inside of his cheek that he tasted blood. His eyes wandered behind Holmes, considering this proposition. "Where do we start?"

* * *

><p>"You're <em>what<em>?"

"It's not a big deal. Seriously."

Hanna looked about ready to have an aneurism. Spencer was nonchalantly putting the finishing touches on her makeup in the bathroom mirror, trying to ignore Hanna's indignant reflection behind her.

"Not a big deal?" Hanna practically shrieked. "This guy is a creeper, Spence."

"It's just a poetry reading," Spencer argued. "Not a marriage proposal."

"Poetry reading my ass," Hanna protested, throwing her hands into the air in frustration. "He's trying to get laid."

"That's not it."

"Yeah?" Hanna continued, a hand on her hip. "It's the biggest trick in the book, Spence. A guy rattles off poetry to get you all gooey-eyed, then he rips your pants off."

Spencer rolled her eyes. "Well, how's this? Even if that's what he's counting on, I'm not interested. Okay?"

"Not yet, you're not," Hanna began darkly. "But wait until he cracks out the big guns…Something like…David Bowie."

Spencer chuckled. "Bowie's a singer. Not a poet."

"Whatever," Hanna dismissed. "You know what I mean."

"Seriously, Han," Spencer reassured. "I have no interest in doing anything other than a poetry reading."

"And if he asks you on another date?" Hanna challenged. "What then?"

Spencer shrugged absentmindedly, focusing now on perfecting her hair. "I'll say no."

"What if he has all the right _moves_ though?" Hanna demanded, a hint of a growl in her irritated voice.

"What 'moves'?" Spencer countered. "I've been around enough guys in my life. Pretty sure I have the capacity to resist."

Hanna shook her head, exhaling loudly. "You're worrying me, Spence."

Spencer forced an uncertain laugh, hoping to lighten the tension in slight. "What do you mean?"

"I just…I dunno…" Hanna trailed off, seemingly deep in thought. She eyed the back of Spencer's head carefully, an action that did not go unnoticed by the latter due to the mirror's reflection of her facial expression.

"What about Toby?"

Spencer felt an invisible hand squeeze her heart. "What about him?"

"He'd be pissed, Spence."

Spencer remained silent.

"Oh, my God," Hanna declared suddenly, eyes widening in realization. "That's why you're doing it."

Spencer ignored her accusation.

Hanna sighed heavily, putting a comforting hand on Spencer's arm. "You don't have to do this…there are other ways to tell him how he made you feel…"

"It's not about Toby," Spencer decided suddenly, wrenching her arm away none-too-gently. She knew somewhere in her subconscious that this statement was more for her own benefit than Hanna's: she had been trying to convince herself all afternoon.

This response culminated in an awkward silence. Spencer quickly made peace with the condition of her hair, anxious to make her exit.

"I'm going to be late," she said conclusively, making the first move to end the conversation. She appreciated Hanna's concern – she truly did – but in all fairness, it was none of her business to be commenting in the first place. Spencer felt slightly irritated at her persistence, and was feeling more rebellious than ever. The prospect of the date was looking better and better.

"Spence," Hanna began dejectedly as her friend was exiting the bathroom. Spencer turned expectantly. "You're only wearing one earring."

The defeat in Hanna's voice was a secret triumph to Spencer; she was giving up the fight and finally relenting to let Spencer make her own decisions.

"Thanks," she murmured uncomfortably, grabbing the other hoop from the bathroom counter. As she left the bathroom and breezed out the apartment door, she didn't allow herself to stop and look back. If she caught another look of disappointment on Hanna's face, she may surely begin to reconsider her judgment.

She was so distracted crossing the threshold of the vestibule into the outside world that she nearly hit someone on the porch with the door.

"Oh God, I'm – " She took one look at the person and immediately stopped. "Holmes…" she began tiredly. "What do you want?"

Derek Holmes had been prepared to throw the door open and march up to her apartment, making a profound speech about how foolish she would be to trust – let alone go on a date with – Jeff Cody. Now that she stood before him, he felt suddenly unsure about the proper way to breach the topic at hand.

"You know why I'm here," he declared simply, all pearls of wisdom suddenly evading him.

Spencer groaned, beginning to make her way around him. "I've had enough unnecessary parenting for one day, thanks."

"You shouldn't be doing this," Holmes stated, ignoring her previous comment. He trailed beside her effortlessly, even when she attempted to pick up her walking pace.

"A lot of people shouldn't be doing a lot of things," Spencer muttered cryptically, though she knew the primary person this statement referenced.

"Prime example: Cody shouldn't be treading on this ground," Holmes quipped.

"Not exactly who I meant," Spencer retorted.

"If you're talking about Toby," Holmes began, "then you should really reconsider what Cody has told you. Think about how long you've known him compared to how long you've known Toby. This should be a no-brainer, Spencer."

"Thought-provoking," she countered sarcastically, refusing to acknowledge him with her eyes as she continued trying to make her escape.

"I'm serious."

She stopped in her tracks, catching Holmes off-guard. He stumbled frantically to a halt beside her.

"Serious?" she demanded, feeling suddenly irate at everyone's attempt to challenge her feelings. "How's this for serious? I spent two years trying to get over him. At this point in my life, he is the only person I've ever loved." She took a deep breath, striving to calm the tremor rising in her voice. "If he felt the same, he would have had the decency to be honest."

Holmes leapt in front of her to prevent her from continuing her trek. He took her by the shoulders and looked her square in the eyes. "You haven't given him a chance to be."

Simple as this comment was, it resonated like a proverbial slap in the face. She knew Holmes made sense, but at the same time, she was furious at his unconditional support for someone that had hurt her so badly.

"Why should I?" she challenged. "I know everything I need to. And I'm not okay with him keeping secrets from me." A guilty pang suddenly seared through her heart, knowing that this new standard was hypocritical in comparison to her past of clandestine detective work surrounding 'A.'

"Stop being so goddamn stubborn," Holmes grumbled in frustration. "You're making it far more complicated than you need to."

She raised an indignant eyebrow before warningly pushing his hands away from her shoulders. "Go to hell."

"Spencer," he fumbled, knowing he had crossed a proverbial line. Women and their damned sensitivity…

"You don't even know me," she growled through gritted teeth. "You have no right to make any judgments about me."

"You're right – I don't know you, and I shouldn't have said that." Without so much as the batting of an eyelash, Spencer had stepped around him once more to continue walking.

"Spencer," he protested from his stance on the sidewalk, knowing that following her again would only make her angrier. "Be careful. Please."

"Fuck off," Spencer responded, though having said it under her breath, she knew he didn't hear.

* * *

><p>Hanna hadn't felt anxiety like this in months. It was as though there were a thousand butterflies in her stomach – not the cutesy romantic kind, but the sort that carried pitchforks and breathed fire. Devil dragon butterflies. The kind of butterflies that made you feel like you'd climb out of your own skin if you didn't submit to the adrenaline rush.<p>

She couldn't explain it – but she was terrified for Spencer. She had never seen her so out of her right mind before. It was unnerving and it shook up her world.

She heard her phone beep from the living room. Rushing out of her pace in the kitchen to retrieve it, she found that it was from Toby.

"_Keep her occupied as long as you can. I'm on my way to stop Cody right now._"

Hanna's fingers flew rapidly as she typed her response. "_She already left._"

"_Shit_," was his only reply.

Literally just as her brain processed his meaning, there was a fervent banging on the door. Though she rushed toward it, the person continued to knock as though they'd break it down.

She threw it open. Holmes. He didn't wait for an invitation; he simply hurried inside.

"What do we do?" he asked desperately.

"I don't know," Hanna replied helplessly, throwing her hands out in a dramatic shrug of resignation. "I tried to talk her out of it."

"He's only doing it to get back at Toby," Holmes quipped. "I overheard him telling Lancaster that he just wants to have sex with her."

Hanna gulped. With Spencer's current vulnerability, she worried about her ability to make sound judgments. And Spencer was the sort of person that regretted her mistakes heavily, almost to a point of depression. Her family had never taken failure lightly, and Spencer's need to over-achieve and toe the line made this terribly apparent.

"If he pushes hard enough, she'll do it," Hanna said dejectedly.

"I hope not," Holmes muttered. "You have no idea who that man has been with…" The way in which he trailed off made Hanna suddenly very itchy.

"So what the hell do we do?" she demanded. "Toby just texted me and said he's on his way to talk to Cody, but I don't think — "

"He's what?" Holmes cried. "That stupid, stubborn, son-of-a-bitch…I told him not to do anything reckless…"

"We have to go," Hanna decided, grabbing her purse and yanking Holmes towards the door by his arm. "Now."

TO BE CONTINUED


	13. Domestic Disturbance

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

Spencer was angry. No. Beyond angry – infuriated. Enraged. Contemptuous.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

She had never been one to make rash decisions. Everybody in her life – bar, perhaps, her family – had always trusted her judgment. Why now, when her choice was simply not the "popular" option, was it suddenly everyone else's business?

Holmes, especially. She had adored Holmes upon first meeting him. And truthfully, beneath the anger and resentment, she knew she still did. Something about his demeanor was both comforting and welcoming, and he had helped her fit right in. However, the way in which he had meddled with her affairs made her hate him for the moment. How dare someone who was almost a complete stranger tell her what to do?

Didn't anybody understand that the more people told her not to do something, the more likely she'd be to do it? Hadn't Hanna, of all people, learned that about her over the years? Hadn't she witnessed all the times Spencer purposefully rebelled against her parents' wishes in order to prove a point?

She noticed that her fury had been causing her to quicken pace. Her calves were seizing up from balancing on her stilettos, warning her to slow down. As she tried, she exhaled heavily several times to calm her anxiety.

Her phone began to buzz in her purse. She seriously considered not bothering to look at it at all, assuming it was someone calling to yell at her once more. However, as she conceded to check, she found that it was someone she knew would alleviate some of her stress.

"Hey, Em," she breathed in relief as she answered the call.

"Hey, everything okay?" Emily inquired from the other end. Just like Emily to know when Spencer was feeling dismayed.

"We haven't had a chance to catch up in weeks, and you immediately assume something's wrong?" Spencer chuckled.

"Spence," Emily berated maternally. "Come on."

Damn that Emily.

Spencer sighed heavily in resignation. "Fine. I ran into Toby."

"You _what_?" Emily demanded. "How is he? What's he doing there?"

"He's fine, I guess," Spencer muttered. "He's living here now."

"And?" Emily pressed.

"And – we tried to pick up where we left off. It didn't work out."

Spencer's cryptic explanation resulted in a pregnant silence on the other end.

"Spencer," Emily began slowly. "I won't press you for details. But whatever happened…you need to remember all the things he'd give up for you. I know that you guys can make it work."

Spencer pulled a face of distaste. Emily always had a way of putting things into perspective, even when Spencer didn't want to hear it. "I don't know, Em," she insisted. "I think our lives are just too different now."

"You didn't see him at the Grille the day he left," Emily continued. "I've never seen him so torn up about anything. He'd walk to the end of the earth for you. Give him that chance."

Spencer sighed, wanting to believe Emily's words of wisdom.

"Yeah, maybe," she negotiated at last as she approached Starbucks. "Listen, Em, I gotta go. Call me tomorrow?"

"Sure," Emily agreed. "Listen, Spence – let your heart do some of the thinking this time. Give your brain a break. I think you'll find it opens a lot of doors." And with that, the click on the other end signified the end of the conversation.

Spencer considered this last piece of advice, turning over the implications of it in her brain. Emily was right about one thing – Spencer had always had a difficult time letting her heart in on the decision-making. But one thing was for sure – her head was far more logical when it came to making sensitive choices.

"Well, this is it," she muttered to herself as she stood in front of the building. Try as she might, she was having a difficult time shaking all of the warnings she had received today. But she was a grown woman – she could make her own choices. And she could trust her own judgment.

She took a deep breath and opened the front door.

* * *

><p>When Cody emerged from the bathroom, he couldn't help but submit to the spring in his step. It was turning out to be a good day, indeed. He had a date with a hot girl, and was simultaneously putting Cavanaugh in his place. Though Cody and Toby had been friends for a long time, Cody couldn't help but resent Toby for his undeniable arrogance. Toby had always been the favorite, wherever they went. Any girl that Cody wanted to date always wanted Toby instead. Any time Cody tried for a promotion, Toby got one effortlessly. If Cody was pissed about anything Toby did, he was immediately ignored when everyone took Toby's side. The dynamic had grown exhausting, to tell the truth. And he looked forward to knocking him down a peg.<p>

He found Lancaster precisely where he had left him, pouting on the couch. The Xbox game remained paused and Lancaster was looking particularly broody.

"Dude, stop moping," Cody muttered impatiently as he made his way to the kitchen for a beer. "Cavanaugh is a big boy. He'll get over it."

"Holmes heard you," Lancaster stated blatantly. Cody stopped dead in his tracks, turning this over in his brain.

"What do you mean?" he asked slowly, turning to face Lancaster's figure.

Lancaster was staring at the wall, refusing to meet his eyes. "He was here the entire time."

"Shit," Cody grumbled, running his hand through his hair in agitation. "I suppose the trusty little Golden Retriever ran off to cry about it to Cavanaugh?"

Lancaster laughed, but this action was devoid of any mirth. He was evidently quite bitter. "You don't get it, do you?" he demanded, suddenly standing to face Cody. "You're a dick, man. You have no respect for anyone else. You never have."

"Save me the sob story," Cody commanded, rolling his eyes in response. He pulled open the fridge to retrieve a Budweiser before returning to the living room. "It's every man for himself, dude."

"Have you even paid attention to the last two years we've spent in the army?" Lancaster said, flabbergasted. "We protect our own."

"And I _will_ protect my own," Cody chuckled, making a crude gesture towards his groin. Lancaster rolled his eyes distastefully.

"Whatever, dude. You're hopeless. And I'm done saving your ass." With that, Lancaster tossed the controller angrily onto the floor before storming up the stairs to his room.

Cody shook his head indignantly. Just like Lancaster to act like a melodramatic little child when things didn't go his way.

However…with Holmes running off to cry wolf, Cavanaugh would surely ruin the entire evening. Cody groaned inwardly at the thought, hoping they'd mind their own business. Damn them.

As if on cue, the garage door swung open. Cody turned abruptly, just in time to meet a fist in the nose. He collapsed to the ground from the impact, feeling his eyes involuntarily beginning to water from the blow to his nasal cavity.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded, staring up at Toby incredulously.

"I could ask you the same question," Toby quipped, dropping to the ground to grab Cody by the collar of his shirt. "How many times have I told you to back off?"

"Not enough, apparently," Cody replied darkly. Toby used his grip on Cody to slam his head back to the tile floor.

"I'm not playing games, man," Toby insisted. "You call this shit off, or I will kill you with my bare hands."

"Fine, fine!" Cody conceded. "I'll call her right now."

Toby roughly released his grip, his eyes still flashing dangerously. "Do it."

Cody clumsily raised himself to his feet, dialing a number entirely different from the one he had promised. He pressed the speaker phone button as the dial tone reverberated throughout the kitchen.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"Domestic disturbance," Cody declared, cocking a daring eyebrow in Toby's direction. When Toby tried to leap at him, Cody grabbed him by the neck and forced him to the ground.

"What is your location?"

"8500 Washtenaw." Toby struggled to release himself from Cody's hold, but found that the grip on his throat was causing him to begin losing consciousness.

"We'll be right over."

Cody folded his phone back up carelessly, looking down at Toby with a dangerous glint in his pale green eyes.

"I told you the next time you fucked with me I'd make you regret it," Cody stated definitively, blood still gushing from the wound in his nose. He turned Toby's face to the tile and slammed his face into the floor – hard. Toby saw spots and fought to stay conscious.

Cody lowered his mouth close to Toby's ear, smirking as he spoke. "I am going to fuck that little bitch so hard, she won't know what hit her."

The surge of raging adrenaline kicked back in. Toby was seeing red now, and felt as though his heart was going to pound out of his chest. With his newfound strength, he launched his right elbow into Cody's temple, sending him moaning to the floor. Within seconds, Toby was on top of him, his fist making repeated contact with Cody's face.

"Stop, dude!" Cody cried. "I was kidding! I'm kidding! I'll call her for real!"

Toby grabbed him violently by the hair. "Shut the hell up!" he commanded, slamming his head into the nearby cabinet. He heard sirens approaching, but was well aware that he no longer cared.

"She must be good in the sack, if you're this protective over her," Cody snarled. Toby effortlessly lifted Cody up from the ground and roughly pushed him up against the wall. Cody groaned in pain.

"I told you to shut the hell up!" Toby repeated, slamming Cody's back against the plaster once more. He found himself suddenly grateful that he didn't care firearms at all times, for in his rage, he would have surely been exercising this second amendment right.

"Police! Put your hands where we can see them!"

Cody flicked his eyebrows mischievously, sending Toby one last meaningful smirk.

Toby's blood ran cold. He did it on purpose. He pushed his buttons on purpose, so that by the time the police arrived, Toby would be the primary assailant.

"You asshole," he breathed as the police pulled his hands behind his back to be cuffed.

"I'll take good care of her. Don't worry," Cody said in low tones, so that only Toby could hear.

* * *

><p>"She's not in there," Hanna cried as she emerged from the coffee shop, looking particularly harried in frustration. "Neither of them are."<p>

"Where the hell would they have gone?" Holmes demanded, rubbing his forehead. "I'll bet Cody found out we knew, and took her somewhere else."

Hanna looked scandalized. "Somewhere else? What do you mean? Like where?"

"I don't know," Holmes said exasperatedly. "Do I look like the expert? I have no idea."

Hanna drew back in slight, making a disapproving face at his tone of voice.

Holmes's phone began to ring. He desperately dug into his pocket to retrieve it.

"Who is it?" Hanna demanded.

"Don't know," he muttered, staring at the unknown number. He answered it anyway. "Hello?"

"Holmes?"

"Cavanaugh," Holmes stated roughly. "Where the hell are you?"

"There's a bit of a problem," Toby mumbled from the other end.

"Problem? What kind of problem?" Holmes looked to Hanna, who had panic written all over her face.

"I'm uh…I'm kind of in jail."

Holmes slowly exhaled to control his temper, unable to suppress the growl that came in tandem.

"What the hell does that mean, Cavanaugh?"

"I'll explain later," Toby insisted. "I have to go. Just go make sure Cody doesn't do anything stupid." With that, Holmes was met with a dial tone.

"What? What's wrong?" Hanna pressed impatiently.

"Son-of-a-bitch got himself arrested," Holmes quipped. Hanna blanched in response.

"Well, we have to go get him."

"What about Cody?" Holmes demanded. "We shouldn't leave Spencer alone with him. When the jackass wants something, he'll go to any lengths to get it."

"We need Toby's help," Hanna reasoned. "It's the only way."

Holmes took a deep breath. "Fine. Let's go get him."

The trek to the Ann Arbor police station felt like years, though in reality it had taken less than ten minutes to make the trip from Starbucks. Hanna was impatiently tapping her long fingernails on the metal countertop, waiting for someone to come out and assist.

"Please stop that," Holmes grumbled irritably.

She turned to face him. "Someone's grouchy."

"Don't test me, Blondie," Holmes challenged, though he was only half-joking.

At last, a female officer emerged into the contained area of the front desk. A large wall of bullet-proof glass separated visitors from staff, a mere microphone allowing them to communicate. There was also a small opening at the bottom of the window, presumably for monetary exchange.

"We're here for Toby Cavanaugh," Holmes stated. Hanna was practically breathing down his neck to get a good look over the counter.

"Cavanaugh…Cavanaugh…" the officer recited to herself as she began rifling through the files on her desk. "Here it is. Toby Cavanaugh. Bail is a hundred."

"A hundred dollars?" Hanna practically shrieked. "What kind of business are you running here?"

The officer stared at her, deadpan. Holmes purposefully pinched Hanna's arm, to which she cried out an indignant, "ouch!"

"One hundred dollars," the officer repeated, choosing to ignore Hanna's previous jibe.

Hanna rolled her eyes and began rummaging through her purse. She extracted her wallet and thumbed through it disdainfully.

"Would you accept a Macy's gift card?"

The officer raised an eyebrow, evidently not amused.

"What?" Hanna demanded. "It's five hundred dollars! You're making out with a profit here."

"Hanna," Holmes began warningly.

"Buy yourself something nice to wear," Hanna insisted to the female officer, ignoring Holmes's attempt to intervene.

"Excuse us," Holmes declared with his best attempt at a charming smile. He took Hanna by the elbow and led her around the corner.

"What are you doing?" she said irritably.

"Hanna, you're not helping," Holmes muttered through gritted teeth, continuing to force a smile for the sake of the officer watching from the glass window. "Do you have cash or not?"

Hanna scoffed defensively. "Fine, yeah," she agreed, showing no signs of keeping her grumpiness at bay.

"I have fifty on me," Holmes quipped. "Anything you got to help would be fantastic."

Hanna nodded impatiently as she began to dig around at the bottom of her purse. As the seconds lapsed, Holmes began to involuntarily tap his foot. Hanna stopped to send him a warning glare.

"Well, we don't have all day," Holmes defended. Hanna rolled her eyes and continued rummaging.

"Here." She unearthed a very crumpled ten dollar bill as well as two sad-looking twenties. Without taking time to complain about the condition the money was in, Holmes returned to the window.

"Hundred dollars," he muttered, sliding it through the opening. The officer studied them both carefully, as if deciding whether she even wanted to continue to help them. But then, at long last, she disappeared through the staff door.

"A Macy's gift card? Seriously?" Holmes grumbled under his breath. Hanna narrowed her eyes.

"She could have used it. Trust me."

"Not the time, _or_ place to be giving fashion advice," Holmes countered.

"It's called making a deal," Hanna insisted. "You try to talk the seller down."

Holmes couldn't believe what he was hearing. He stared at her, baffled. "This isn't the mall."

"Everyone loves gift cards." Hanna flipped her hair, a hint of arrogance in her body language.

"Not exactly negotiable currency, Hanna."

"Shut up."

The heavy metal door began to swing open. Toby was being escorted into the lobby, where the shiner on his eye glimmered in the fluorescent lighting.

"Don't let us catch you in here again, Specialist Cavanaugh. Next time, we report your charges to the military," the officer warned as he disappeared back through the doorway.

"Toby," Hanna breathed maternally, instinctively reaching out to touch his black eye. Toby flinched away from her involuntarily.

"I'm fine."

"Well, obviously you're not," Holmes quipped, feeling less generous than Hanna. "You did a stupid thing, Cavanaugh. I warned you not to go after Cody without me."

"What was I supposed to do, Holmes?" Toby growled. "You had some dumbass plan about waiting around – I couldn't put Spencer at that kind of risk."

"Yeah, well, my dumbass plan of waiting around probably involved less time wasting than this little adventure," Holmes countered.

"Guys – stop it," Hanna pleaded. "This isn't helping anything. We still have to go find Spencer."

Toby caressed the bruise forming on his eye, looking confused. "Didn't they go to the reading?"

"No," Holmes answered. "We couldn't find them."

Toby chewed the inside of his cheek impatiently, thinking. "Where would they have gone?"

"We don't know," Hanna murmured.

"Well, we won't figure anything out by standing around," Toby insisted, massaging the handcuff imprints on his wrist. "We need to get going."

TO BE CONTINUED


	14. To Burn Your Bridges

_**A/N: **__Sorry it's on the shorter side, but this semester in my Master's program has been kicking my butt! I will be attempting to wrap it all up over my Christmas vacation. Enjoy! As always, leave me lots of love!_

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

"_Reading is a no-go. Meet me at 5454 Willow Lane._"

Cody's text message had been inexplicably cryptic, offering no indication of any reasoning. Spencer had read the message over several times, feeling a paining sense of foreboding in its underlying meaning. After all, she had only agreed to the poetry reading because she loved poetry, and yearned for intelligent entertainment – now that those plans were nixed, she found herself slightly ambivalent about spending the evening with someone who wasn't Toby.

So soon, that is. She was absolutely not ready to move on…Not after Train Wreck Number Two on the Cavanaugh Express.

But on the other hand, her pride was itching unyieldingly at her doubts. She had given both Hanna and Holmes quite a lecture about being able to handle herself…How would it look now if she backed out? She could already picture Hanna's smug expression: she'd cock her head back slightly, raise her eyebrows, and fail to hide her tiny smirk.

"_I knew you'd come to your senses_," she would say. "_I'm glad you realized I was right._"

She shuddered at the mere image. She loathed being proven wrong – or merely _presumed_ wrong, in most cases. It was absolutely her most hated insecurity.

She was walking quickly now, feeling an anxious sense of wanting to get the night over with. She had no interest in Cody in a romantic sense, but felt, at this point, that she had something to prove to everyone else who had been trying to baby her. Her downtown travels had done a number on her feet already, which were not accustomed to wearing the high heels that she was donning. She could feel the stinging sensation of blisters urging to take form.

As she approached the provided address, she studied the building's features carefully. It appeared to be a tiny, quaint restaurant, its neon lights already turned out for the night. She slowly stepped onto the front stoop and tried to peer in, confused. Surely he had given her the wrong address…

But then, the front door opened. Spencer nearly jumped out of her skin in fright, only to be met with Cody's shadowed face.

"Hey," he greeted. Though Spencer could not make out his features in the dark, she could hear the smile in his voice. "Welcome to Château a la Cody!"

Spencer chuckled. "I'm pretty sure you're mincing languages there."

"Yeah, well," he declared dismissively, laughing slightly in response. "Despite my butchering of foreign languages, it _is_ the House of Cody."

"Pardon?" Spencer questioned, beginning to follow him inside as he held the door open for her.

"Family-owned bistro," he explained. "I forgot that I was supposed to run it tonight for my parents. The fact that I closed down early will be our little secret."

Spencer laughed softly, trying to acclimate her eyes to the darkness she had entered. As if reading her mind, Cody reached out to flip on the lights, illuminating the restaurant in a soft, gentle glow. Spencer could see now that charming lighting fixtures hung above each table, emitting only enough light to reasonably see. The dimness of their quality implied the intention of romantic ambiance.

"It's lovely," she murmured, turning to face him. It was then that she noticed the burgeoning bruise forming over his left eye, as well as a sharp cut across his cheekbone and an unnaturally-formed cleft on his nose.

"Oh, my God," she muttered, peering more closely at his face. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"Oh," he said sheepishly. "It seems…uh…Cavanaugh wasn't pleased to hear that we'd be hanging out tonight."

Spencer froze. A mixture of emotions occurred to her all at once. Rage, of course, at Toby's incessant need to interfere. But also, inexplicable flattery at his gesture of jealousy.

"I'm so sorry," she said at last with a grimace, unsure of any additional support she could offer.

He stepped closer to her to put his hand on her arm. "It's not your fault," he said gently. "I told you that Toby has been going off the deep end for some time now."

"You've been drinking," Spencer declared suddenly. Now that he was within closer proximity, she could smell the whiskey on his breath.

He stepped back abruptly, as if startled. "Just to numb a bit of the pain. I'm sorry, does it bother you?"

Spencer forced a feeble smile, attempting to will herself to stop being so paranoid. "I suppose you gotta do what you gotta do," she reasoned. "I'll bet it hurts like hell."

He chuckled, raising a hand to gingerly massage his black eye. "You have no idea."

The ringing of Spencer's cell phone broke the potentially awkward silence that followed Cody's comment. She rummaged through her purse to determine its location.

Hanna. She groaned under her breath, feeling entirely unwilling to argue any more.

"You should get that," Cody said somberly. "She's your best friend. She's worried."

"No," Spencer insisted, pressing the "ignore" button. "I don't want to talk to her."

"The faster you burn your bridges the farther you'll fall," Cody quipped. He did not bother to mention that this saying was Holmes' mantra for army brotherhood.

Spencer digested the meaning of this phrase. As if on cue, Hanna began to call again.

"Seriously. Answer it," Cody commanded. "I'm going to get dinner ready."

"Dinner?" Spencer asked, perplexed.

"Cooked it myself," he boasted. "Just for you."

Once more, the ambivalent flattery ballooned in Spencer's chest.

"You look beautiful tonight, by the way," he added with a smile as he walked toward the kitchen.

Spencer stood there, feeling entirely unprepared for the come-ons that Cody was clearly soliciting. She stared at Hanna's image on her phone as the ringing ceased and she was sent to voicemail. Almost immediately, as if Hanna had completed the task at the same time as calling, a text message appeared in Spencer's inbox.

"_Where the hell are you_?" it demanded.

Spencer hitched a stubborn breath into her lungs. "_Out. Doing something. Like you've been pushing me to do all week._"

With that, she held the power button on her phone to power it down, vowing not to bother with it for the rest of the night.

The smell of Italian food wafted onto the main floor of the bistro. Spencer's stomach rumbled involuntarily, indicating that she had not been kind to it over the past several days. Admittedly, this was quite true: her appetite had been rather nonexistent. The additional travelling scent of garlic bread only made it feel as though it was imploding even more.

Dinner. Dinner was innocent, right? She was so hungry, she could not rationalize passing up a free, home-cooked meal…

She took a seat at the table that had obviously been prepared for their dining experience. Champagne flutes and a bottle of the finest bubbly was set out in preparation. A glass vase that held a single lily was perched in the center. She admired it adoringly, appreciating the glow it emitted under the ambient lights.

"It's just dinner," she muttered to herself supportively. Then, with a clear of her throat, she pulled her chair closer and began to pour herself a glass of champagne.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	15. Loose Canon

_**A/N: **__Again, I apologize for the short nature of this chapter. But many of you are anxiously awaiting updates! I wanted to give you something before Christmas came around :-) My ultimate goal is to finish this before the January premiere, but we'll see how everything goes. Happy holidays!_

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

"Cody!" Toby hollered, nearly clearing the front door from its hinges as he burst into the house. "Get your ass out here!"

Holmes and Hanna were hot on his heels, panting as they followed suit through the front entrance. Hanna was now barefoot, her pumps buried and forgotten in her purse, retired for the night due to blistering.

"I don't think he's here, man," Holmes quipped. "To be honest, I don't think he'd be stupid enough to come back tonight, anyway."

Toby did not appear to hear him. "Cody!" he continued yelling, beginning to throw open every door on the first floor in a desperate search.

"She turned her goddamn phone off," Hanna muttered. "She's ignoring me on purpose."

"What the hell is going on?"

Holmes and Hanna turned abruptly to see Lancaster looking down on them from the second-floor landing.

"Dude, where is Cody?" Holmes demanded as he painfully watched Toby continue ransacking various rooms, as though he would find Cody cowering in a closet or beneath a couch cushion.

Lancaster heaved an exhausted sigh. "I'm going to tell you the same thing I told him: I'm not getting involved."

"Well you picked a great fucking time to play Switzerland, didn't you?" Holmes shouted. "You've had that asshole's back for years – whether he was right or wrong – and now, when you know damn well he's treading dangerous ground, you're going to play dumb?"

Toby emerged from the den, looking particularly harried in his investigation. "He's not down here."

Lancaster was studying them carefully, appearing to be enduring some distant internal struggle.

"C'mon, man," Holmes continued, striving as best he could to reign in his anger. "He's always been a dick to you, too. Now's the time to show him you can't be pushed around."

Lancaster sighed once more, beginning a slow descent on the staircase. "Did you try the Mack Shack yet?"

"The what?" Toby demanded incredulously.

"His parents' restaurant," Lancaster replied. "He calls it the Mack Shack. Whenever he's supposed to be in charge, he closes down early to bring girls in."

"Man whore," Hanna muttered under her breath, unintended for anyone else's ears. Holmes pretended not to hear.

"I didn't even know his parents had a restaurant in town," he admitted.

"I'm going to kill him," Toby vowed through gritted teeth, subconsciously massaging his knuckles in preparation. "Where is it?"

"Hold your horses, Cowboy," Hanna urged sarcastically, though the support was apparent. She lightly touched his shoulder. "You need to calm down."

Toby wrenched away from her affectionate gesture, none-too-lightly. "I'm past the point of staying calm," he insisted. "He's gone too far. And I'm going to tear him limb from limb."

Holmes was taken aback. He had never seen Toby so irrationally furious. There was a dangerous glint in his eye that was suggestive of a potential to make a very big, very critical, homicide-related mistake.

"You're not going anywhere," he decided definitively, grabbing Hanna's arm and heading towards the door. "We will take care of it. You need to stay here and figure out a way to pull it together."

"What?" Toby demanded, looking scandalized. "You're seriously not letting me come with you?"

"I'm seriously not," Holmes confirmed. "Lancaster – text me the name of the restaurant."

"I'm coming," Toby said firmly. "You can't stop me."

"Listen to me," Holmes commanded, stepping forward to get very close to Toby's face, hoping to come off as at least mildly intimidating to the taller man. "You are a loose canon right now. And I will not watch you throw everything away over this dick head. When I told you I had your back, I meant it. And I will take care of this for you. Do you hear me?"

Toby was glaring at him now, grinding his teeth in frustration. "I can't believe you don't trust me."

"I trust you with my life, bro," Holmes declared. And he meant it. "I just don't trust you with _his_."

Toby seemed taken aback by this as he tremulously fell back into a sitting position on the couch. He did not appear to have a rational response.

"We'll make sure she's safe," Holmes promised, grabbing a very flustered Hanna once more to lead her out the door with him. "Lancaster – make sure he stays put."

Before Toby could pull his thoughts back to the surface, they were already gone. He chanced a glance at Lancaster, who was following through on his agreement to text the location to Holmes. He looked tired and downtrodden, as though this precarious ethical dilemma had worn him out.

"Do you really think he's there?" Toby asked quietly, trying as hard as possible to control the venom in his voice.

"Hard to say," Lancaster confessed, collapsing into a heap on the couch beside Toby. "He may be a douche, but he's not an idiot. He knows I was pissed at him earlier…and he probably knows I'd give him away. So I don't honestly know what his next move will be."

Toby considered this. In all reality, Lancaster was probably right. Cody was calculative: he knew how to get what he wanted, and how to do it under the cover of clever reasoning.

He distinctly recalled the time that Cody's ex-girlfriend was suspicious of him cheating – which he was. She would follow him every time he left the house, hoping to catch him in the act. But instead, he figured out a way to sneak around her detective work.

"_You just gotta do the last thing they'd expect_," he had laughed, after explaining his "brilliant" technique of squeezing in clandestine affairs. "_You do it right in front of their nose, where they never bother to look_."

"Shit," Toby mumbled, feeling the proverbial light bulb illuminating in his brain.

"What?"

Toby froze. Lancaster had been ordered not to let him leave the house. Not that he could do much to stop him…but Toby was well aware that this would present a barrier.

"Nothing," he said slowly. "Just…really worried."

"I know, dude," Lancaster said sympathetically. "I'm sorry Cody's gotta be such an ass."

"Yeah," Toby agreed distractedly. He was going over potential plans of action in his head, trying to figure out which would work best. He could tie Lancaster down…he could drug him…he could talk him into letting him go…

None of those things were very plausible, though.

"She seems like a nice girl," Lancaster continued. "I hate to think that he's trying to take advantage of her."

Not the right thing to say. Toby's blood simmered heavily at this statement. Over his dead body.

"I don't think she'll let him do anything," Lancaster added quickly, taking note of the expression on Toby's face. "She's pretty smart. She won't fall for his tricks."

Toby distantly willed Lancaster to continue talking. It was keeping him distracted as Toby pieced together his plan. He was silently appraising his potential escape routes, knowing that time was of the essence. And if Lancaster kept talking, he may not notice the wheels turning in Toby's head…

"It's a wonder he's even still around, you know," Lancaster muttered. "He's violated the code of army brotherhood so many times, you'd think he'd be out on his ass by now."

"Yeah," Toby agreed obscurely, glancing over his shoulder towards the back door. Yeah…that would be the only way.

"He'd deserve it, too," Lancaster said. "For all the times I put my ass on the line for him…"

"I think I'm going to go take a shower," Toby interrupted. "I need to clear my head."

Lancaster nodded noncommittally as he turned on the television and began channel surfing. Toby calmly excused himself from the couch and headed toward the back bathroom, carefully watching Lancaster as he went. He seemed thoroughly distracted by the episode of _South Park_ that he had found, and was chuckling to himself at one of Cartman's many outbursts.

Toby flipped on the shower head to beginning the running of the water. He peeked around the corner of the bathroom, seeing that Lancaster was still occupied. He stepped out of the bathroom and closed the door, hurriedly tiptoeing his way to the garage door.

Lancaster would never be the wiser.


	16. Books and their Covers

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

The night had turned out better than expected, Spencer had to admit. Despite Cody's unsolicited flattery, she had not, actually, been as uncomfortable as she thought she would. They had spent the majority of dinner discussing literature and the precarious industry of film adaptation, and she had thoroughly enjoyed every second of intelligent conversation. He had even politely offered to walk her home in the dark, so as to keep an eye on her safety.

She could not help but feel the slightest bit of triumph when she thought about Hanna's and Holmes's ridiculous accusations. She was in a better mood than she had been in days. It felt nice to get out of the apartment and forget about the entire mess with Toby. Had she listened to them, she would have only been trapped inside, feverishly doing more homework.

And Cody was nice enough – he was obviously attracted to her, sure…but he hadn't tried to make a move, and she appreciated that. The most he had done was none-too-subtly try to reach for her hand as they walked. She seemed to get away with using both hands to hold her coat shut in the frigid night air, however, and he seemed no less friendly for it. He respected her. And that was more than she could say for Toby and his dishonesty.

Soon enough, they had reached the threshold of her apartment door. Despite having had a good time, she was secretly grateful to be back home. Following their literary conversation, she now had a compelling urge to curl up with a good book and shut the world out for a few sweet hours.

"It was really nice of you to walk with me," she offered as she began fumbling in her purse for her keys. Her cell phone still lay dormant at the bottom. She had nearly forgotten that she had been forced to turn it off. She left it, knowing that upon powering it back up she would only have an asinine amount of texts and missed calls from Hanna.

And perhaps Toby.

"I told you already, it's no problem," Cody smiled. She returned the gesture.

"I had a good time," she stated. "Maybe we can eventually catch one of those poetry readings."

He chuckled. "Yeah, I'll need to make that up to you, I guess."

She laughed slightly as well. Both stood in silence for a beat. This was the particular moment that she was most concerned for – the obligatory good night kiss – and she had been trying to figure out how she would politely turn him down if the occasion arose.

"Well," she began, suppressing the awkward feeling that had caused her palms to begin perspiring. She turned quickly to begin unlocking the door. "Thank you again. I'll see you soon."

"Would you like to – " Cody began slowly, then seemed to think better of it. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and shook his head. "Nah. Never mind."

"What is it?" she inquired. Her keys were hanging expectantly in the doorknob. She felt a sense of foreboding…she had hoped that she had gotten away with not ending the evening on the traditional "date night" note.

"I was hoping I could come in for some coffee," Cody stated. "You know, just for a little while…So that I don't have to face Cavanaugh yet."

That annoying pang of flattery had returned. Spencer fought to repress any daydream fantasies about Toby defending her honor. He had, after all, been careless. And he had handled the situation in an entirely barbaric, Neanderthal-like manner.

But some part of her still wanted those caveman arms to be the ones to protect her.

"I dunno," she began uncertainly. "Hanna is not exactly your biggest fan…"

"Oh. Right." He sighed in resignation. "That sucks. I'm so not ready to go back and face him…"

The guilt swelled. It plagued her as she re-examined the damage that Toby had inflicted upon Cody's face. It was her fault that they had gotten into the fight. What had been meant as a friendly poetry reading had turned into a melodramatic rendezvous in Toby's eyes. He had certainly made his warning clear to Cody…in a very painful, very physical manner. The least she could do was offer him sanctuary for a little while longer.

"Sure," she decided at last, against her better judgment. "Only for an hour or so, though. Hanna needs to get up early."

Of course Hanna had nothing to do the next morning. A little white lie never hurt anyone.

"Not a problem," Cody insisted. "You're the boss."

Spencer nodded uncertainly, feeling quite frustrated that the awkward sensation had not subsided. She did not enjoy feeling as though she had no control over her own social responses. She turned the knob and stepped aside for him to enter first.

* * *

><p>"Can you see?" Hanna asked impatiently, holding her pea coat tightly around her body. The temperature was beginning to drop at night now, and the cold weather darkened her mood.<p>

"I could see better if you stopped nagging me," Holmes quipped irritably from the high-set window on the dining patio. He had had to expertly forge a line of neatly-trimmed hedges and was now standing precariously on one of the chairs to see in.

"Because my nagging affects your vision," Hanna agreed sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "I told you that if you let me up there, I could try to use my phone to – "

"And I told _you_," Holmes began, "that all that will accomplish is sending its own reflection back at you."

"I feel really bad for Toby," Hanna declared, ignoring him. "We should have let him come."

"No way," Holmes argued, cupping his hands above his eyes to narrow his vision into the window. All he seemed to be accomplishing was contracting frostbite on the tip of his nose. "You saw how crazy he got…we don't need to be bailing him out of jail again."

"But he wants to be the one to save her," Hanna continued. "You can't fault him for that."

"No," Holmes agreed, "but I have to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."

"Is this how you guys have always been?" she asked quietly, rubbing both of her arms to generate the warmth of friction.

Holmes turned to look down at her over the hedges, seemingly deep in thought. "Yeah, kind of," he began. "I've sort of always had his back. That's how we became friends."

"Tell me about it," Hanna said seriously.

"Well," Holmes continued, beginning to fumble around the windowpane for weaknesses in the moulding. "There was this total jerk-off at basic…always ragging on Cavanaugh, ya know? I put an end to it."

Hanna stared at him incredulously. He could practically feel her eyes burning holes in the back of his head.

"Not like _that_," he quickly amended, rolling his eyes. "I didn't kill him."

She exhaled in relief. He chuckled in slight. "I just taught him a lesson, was all."

"That's kind of how Spencer and I have always been," Hanna started. "She always had my back when I was fat and everyone made fun of me."

"You? Fat?" Holmes demanded. "Somehow I can't picture that, Miss America."

It was her turn to roll her eyes. "Yes, well, I never would have pegged you for a military guy either."

He knew she was referencing his stature. It didn't bother him – he had been dealing with the very same stereotype for his entire life. All through high school basketball, especially.

"Yeah, well, books and their covers and all of that," he agreed. He was now attempting to get a leg up onto the window ledge above him.

"Can you pick locks?" Hanna asked, suddenly bored with the previous topic. She was fumbling with the front door once more, trying to peer in through the blinds that had been closed.

"Excuse me?" Holmes demanded. "Oh, right. I get it. The Black man should always know how to pick a lock, right?" Despite the comment's wealth of sarcasm, Hanna distinctly saw his amused smirk in the dark.

"No," Hanna argued, scrunching her face up distastefully. "But soldiers should."

"Why's that?"

"Because," Hanna insisted, as if arguing with a child, "it could come in handy for breaking into the enemy's headquarters, or whatever."

"Yeah…no, we have guns for that," Holmes declared with a laugh. "And I'll tell you what – if you're holding a gun at the front door, you don't usually need a lock smith."

"Fine, fine," Hanna muttered as she began sifting through the decorative doilies on the dining deck. "Maybe they have a spare key out here somewhere…"

Holmes scoffed, nearly losing his footing. "Don't be ridiculous, Hanna. I doubt that any respectable business with a cash register would really risk – "

"Found it!" Hanna cried as she turned over the grumpy-looking garden gnome near the hedges.

"I stand corrected," Holmes stated in shock, hopping down from the chair he had used for a boost. Between two perfectly manicured pink fingernails, Hanna held a small brass key.

"All right then," Holmes declared. "Let's break up the party."

* * *

><p>"Damnit!" Lancaster shouted loudly as an opponent on <em>Call of Duty<em> killed him once more. "I'm going to kick your ass, Weezy562!"

His cell phone began to ring. Impatiently he thrust it between his head and shoulder so as to be sure to be on guard when his character respawned. "Yeah, what?"

"He's not here," Holmes said irritably on the other line. "It's shut down for the night."

"I dunno what to tell you, dude," Lancaster offered. "He's not here, that's for sure. I've been downstairs all night."

"Where's Cavanaugh?"

"In the shower," Lancaster responded. "Said he needed to get his mind off some stuff."

"Okay…" Holmes began slowly. "What happened when we left?"

"He took a shower."

There was a pause on the other line. "You mean to tell me he's been in there for two hours?"

Lancaster hesitated, glancing over his shoulder towards the back bathroom. The water was still running. "Yeah…I guess so."

"You idiot!" Holmes yelled in his ear. Lancaster dropped the controller, startled, and pulled the phone away from his head to preserve his eardrums.

"What the fuck, man? What do you mean?"

"He snuck out, right under your nose, dude."

"No way. He's in the shower. Hold on, I'll prove it." With that, Lancaster began making his way towards the bathroom. He knocked loudly on the door. "Cavanaugh?" No answer. He knocked louder. "Cavanaugh!"

"Open the door, dumbass," Holmes urged. Lancaster rolled his eyes and propped it open slightly.

"Dude, are you in here?" No answer, again. He quietly peeked through the opening.

The shower was running, but it was empty.

"Ah, shit," Lancaster muttered.

"What?"

"Sorry, man…I fucked up."


	17. Violation

_**A/N:**__Scenes of a graphic nature enclosed. You've been warned! _

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

The moment they had stepped through the door, a sense of ominous foreboding settled the pit of Spencer's stomach. The way that he had looked at her – the way he had tried to reach for her hand once more. He had suggested watching a movie, which Spencer had quickly declined. She did not want to give him the wrong idea, and was beginning to realize that perhaps she already had.

The discomfort was growing with very little recourse, like an inoperable tumor. She had never been in a situation like this before, and was fighting to remain calm and confident in its wake. She didn't like having a strange boy in her apartment. And she certainly didn't like the way he was undressing her with his eyes.

It had turned out that he did not want coffee as badly as he had made it sound: instead, he was drinking a glass of the wine that Hanna had stashed in the cabinet. He sat at the kitchen table, looking through the photo albums that he had pilfered none-too-politely from Spencer's room.

He was overstaying his welcome. Spencer had struggled to drop hint after hint, including lots of gratuitous yawning and stretching. She was becoming quickly anxious, almost hoping for Hanna to walk through the door and make a scene so that he'd leave. She had even gone so far as to change into her lounging clothes to provide additional implication about the time. She was trying her damnedest to avoid being blunt, but as she grew increasingly frustrated, she found this harder to avoid.

She hated to be rude, but was very particular when it came to the sanctity of her personal space. She could not help but feel incredibly on edge about allowing him to stay a moment longer. She had felt violated like this before – like with 'A' – And over the years, she had become quite familiar with the red flags that were associated with this feeling.

As he continued to drink, the manners that Spencer had so dearly appreciated earlier seemed to be rubbing off quickly. His interaction with her was growing more flirtatious, and his language more crass. She tried to convince herself that the alcohol was a key player in this, but was developing the distinct feeling that Cody was a very talented showman.

"This picture is fucking hot," he kept musing as he browsed page by page. He had quickly downed three glasses of wine and was working on a fourth, beginning to look significantly glazy-eyed.

"Thanks," she murmured uncomfortably.

"I'll bet all the high school guys were all over you," Cody continued, slurring slightly as he spoke. He took another swig from his wine glass and grinned mischievously.

"Not so much the high school guys as the college ones," Spencer muttered, recalling the inconvenient tendency of attracting all of Melissa's boyfriends.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Nothing," she said quickly. "Listen…Jeff…it's almost one o'clock…"

"Is it really?" he demanded, glancing at his wristwatch. "Wow, I can't believe it."

"Yeah," Spencer added hastily, hoping to get somewhere. "And, well, I'm super tired…"

He stared at her for a few gruelingly uncomfortable moments before closing the photo album and downing the remainder of his glass. He grinned flirtatiously.

"Well, then maybe we should head to bed."

"Yeah, I think that would – wait, _we_?"

"Oh, c'mon, Spencer," he said with a lazy wave of his hand, clumsily standing from his sitting position. "It's polite to invite a man to your room after a nice date."

"Oh, Jesus," Spencer muttered irritably. She could feel her blood beginning to boil in incredulity, her pseudo-feminist views crying in outrage. She was also feeling immensely displeased to find that Hanna and Holmes may have been right in their theories about Cody's motives being warped. She was rapidly realizing that agreeing to hang out with him had been a mistake, for he was beginning to elicit an obscene amount of anxiety within her. "You know what, Jeff? If that's what tonight was all about – then I'm sorry, but my intentions must have gotten lost in translation." She breathed deeply. "I have no interest in dating anyone right now. I thought I made that perfectly clear."

"That's convenient," he mused. "I'm not interested in dating anyone, either."

"But you just – " Realization dawned upon Spencer rudely, like a hailstorm. It was never about bonding, or forming a friendship, or even looking for a relationship on the horizon. "You just wanted to sleep with me," she deduced aloud, mortified.

"You wanted to sleep with me, too," Cody insisted, beginning the close the distance between them with his tipsy saunter. "You've been dropping hints since we met."

"You're delusional," Spencer spat through gritted teeth, edging gradually backwards as he continued to approach her. "The most I ever did was try to be your friend. For Toby."

"Well now that you mention it," Cody continued, "this would be the perfect way to stick it to his pussy ass for breaking your heart."

A million thoughts were racing through Spencer's head. She struggled to grasp at just one, just enough to calm the chaos in her brain. "All those things you told me at the party weren't true," she murmured at last.

"Of course not," Cody scoffed. "Not my fault you believed them."

"All of those things about the girls – about Afghanistan…" Spencer was muttering, more to herself than to him.

"Well – Afghanistan may have some truth to it," Cody amended. "He nailed that coffin all on his own."

He had successfully backed Spencer into the arm of the couch. Her knees nearly buckled as she made contact with it, quickly appraising her surroundings for an out.

"I think you need to leave," Spencer declared, though a tremor had risen in her voice. She fought to control it so as to stand her ground. "You've hit on me, you've lied to me, and you've insulted Toby. And I'm not going to listen to it anymore."

"What do you care about Cavanaugh?" Cody demanded, his body nearly flush with hers. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. "He doesn't deserve someone like you."

"Toby is a great man," Spencer defended fervently. "It's a wonder he even puts up with you."

Cody's jaw squared angrily. "What is it about Toby fucking Cavanaugh?" he shouted. "What makes him so fucking fantastic?"

"He treats people with respect!" Spencer yelled back, her heart racing at a million miles a minute at the position Cody had forced her into. "He's more of a man than you could ever hope to be."

In that moment, something very distinctively snapped. Before Spencer could even process what was happening, Cody had already lifted her clear off her feet and thrown her onto the couch. He was greedily climbing on top of her, trapping her legs beneath his knees and taking a hold of her wrists with one hand. "I'm twice the man that Cavanaugh is!" he bellowed.

Spencer wriggled beneath him, struggling to get free. "Let go of me! Get off!"

"Not until I get what I came for," Cody snarled. "I'll be damned if Cavanaugh gets one more thing that belongs to me."

"I was his first!" Spencer cried, ignoring the possessive terminology that often made her twitch with disdain. "And if you think I belong to you, you're a fucking psychopath!"

She could feel her heart pumping rapidly in her stomach. She thought about crying out for help, but had the sinking feeling that he would only become more aggressive at that response. She continued trying to flail beneath him, but to no avail – he was strong.

He seemed to be ignoring her now as he trailed his nose from her jawbone to her neck. His breath was stale and unpleasant, his touch numbingly painful. Instinctively, Spencer turned and latched her teeth onto the skin of his temple – hard.

He cried out in pain, his free hand flying to his face. As he brought it away, he saw blood trickling from his fingers. "You fucking bitch."

As if to solidify this small victory, Spencer spat directly in his face. His grip on her tightened as he stared her down.

"C'mon, baby," he sneered mockingly. "Just once – just once let me show you how much of a man I can be." With his free hand, he was beginning to unbutton his jeans. Spencer's blood froze within her veins as she realized the gravity of what was about to happen. She forced herself to stay strong.

"If it comes anywhere near me," she began slowly, "_I will bite it off_."

"Feisty," he chuckled darkly, lowering his face to hers once more. He was now pushing up on her t-shirt, fighting to get it off. She squirmed desperately, screaming in protest, but had little success in fighting off this advance. Soon the shirt was slung around her wrists, which lay trapped against the couch above her head.

"You are so beautiful I can barely stand it," he muttered as he began to kiss her neck once more. If not for his possessive outburst, she could have easily mistaken him for a man that truly worshipped her to the death. And perhaps in some twisted way that's what it was – sick, possessive infatuation. She could feel the hot tears free-flowing now, beginning to erode at what little resistance she had left.

"I promise you'll enjoy it," he was saying, though his voice seemed distant, like a sound carried by the wind. She fought back the lump in her throat, vowing silently not to break down. She couldn't. She couldn't give him the satisfaction.

Until a couple of weeks ago, she had been a virgin. She had only shared herself intimately with Toby, and him alone. She suddenly recalled the loving, affectionate way in which he gazed down upon her, slowly and gently rocking his body against hers. She had known then that the care he took in making love to her was the way it was supposed to be. It had been like something out of a film or a romance novel. It had been kind, and cautious, and full of passionate connection.

She had always heard people talking about sex as if it was such a dirty, carnal thing. With Toby, it had been anything but that. It had been a fantasy that found its way into the real world, captivating her, heart and soul. Tying her to him for eternity. It was breathtaking. It wasn't like this…it wasn't the primal way in which Cody was grabbing at her breasts or pawing at her waistline. With Toby, it was love. It was a beautiful vow of trust and loyalty. And in one single night, at one stupid party, with one stupid asshole – she had allowed herself to doubt that implicit promise.

And here she was, lying beneath this drunken bastard, being regarded as a mere piece of ass. Toby didn't treat her like that. He had never looked at her as a sexual conquest. He had been patient. He had waited. And their night of passion had been so worth that wait.

And she would be damned if she let her second experience shame what they had created that night.

Cody had taken her sudden stillness for blind surrender. He had released her wrists and removed her shirt entirely, and was now drunkenly fumbling with the drawstring of her sweat pants.

Her breath hitched in her lungs. It was now or never.

With all of the strength she could muster, she thrust her kneecap upwards beneath his bare testicles.

"Fuck!" he cried out. Had it not been for the severity of the situation, Spencer may have chuckled at the crack of falsetto in his voice. Instead, she launched herself from the couch, dismounting from the back of it, and lunged towards the door. It occurred distantly to her that she was topless – she couldn't find the effort to care. She was freely sobbing now, desperate to make her escape.

She flung the door open and barged into the hallway, frantically yelling. She knew that her speech was incomprehensible, but she needed someone – anyone – to come to her aid.

She continued to stumble dizzily down the hallway, caught almost immediately by the strong arms she had grown to recognize anywhere by their mere touch. She did not need to wipe the tears away that blurred her vision. She knew it was him.

She collapsed into him a heap of hysterics, her knees giving out from under her. He caught her easily, grabbing safely onto her elbows. He pulled her into him, kissing her all over her face and hurriedly wiping tears away. He was desperately pulling his jacket off with one hand.

"Where is he?" he asked dangerously. Spencer chanced a glance up at him, seeing now that he bore similar bruises to Cody himself. It had been foolish to think that the altercation had been one-sided, as she had assumed earlier…

She couldn't answer. The sobs that wracked her body were making it increasingly difficult to breathe.

"Spencer, baby," Toby urged, wrapping the coat around her half-naked figure. "You need to tell me where he is."

"In-inside," she stuttered, with minimal coherence. Toby understood.

"Stay here," he commanded. Something about the tone in his voice made her grab onto his wrist with desperation.

"Spencer, stay here," he said more sternly. She could barely stand on her own, swaying precariously in his arms as he began to lower her into a sitting position on the floor.

"Spencer!"

She pushed the tears away from her eyelashes, instantly interpreting the mass of blond hair that engulfed her in a protective embrace.

"What the fuck happened?" she could hear Holmes demand distantly. It was as if the metaphorical wind had picked up speed once more and was carrying their voices far away.

"Why isn't she wearing a shirt?" Hanna cried, cradling Spencer into the crook of her neck.

"I'm going to find out," Toby growled. "And then, I'm going to kill him."

"I'm coming with you," Holmes declared.

As she heard their footsteps departing, she reached out desperately to grasp at Hanna's hand.

"I think – I'm – going to faint," she whispered. The rapidity of her breathing was causing her vision to lose focus, and her surroundings to become a blur.

"You're okay, honey, you're okay," Hanna was chanting. Spencer could hear the lump in her throat threatening to dislodge.

Two things became glaringly obvious in her last moments of consciousness.

One: Toby Cavanaugh challenged all beliefs she had ever held about men coming to the aid of a damsel in distress. He had saved her in more ways than one, and would never let her fall.

Two: Hanna Marin was her best friend in the entire world.

The hallway went black.

TO BE CONTINUED


	18. Confrontation

_**A/N: **__Just a few more chapters to go before we wrap up! The next one will be fluffier than your favorite bunny, I can assure you. Please enjoy!_

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

The adrenaline surged through his system like white water rapids, causing every muscle, every vein, and every appendage of his body to be on high alert. All of the events in the night had culminated in this. He had hoped – no, prayed – that it wouldn't end up happening this way. That Cody would have enough decency to respect the boundaries of another human being. That the benefit of the doubt that the boys had given him all of these years would not have been in vain.

He could see the fury in his best friend's eyes – Toby was livid. His jaw was clenched powerfully in preparation, the wheels turning rapidly in his brain. It was as though he had passed the point of being angry – he was vengeful. Holmes knew that what would come next would be something he could not stop. Perhaps something he would not _want_ to stop. He felt sick to his stomach at the prospect of what Cody had done. To have such disregard for a person…Holmes didn't know how he could live with himself.

The image of Spencer about to collapse at the top of the stairs, her face drenched in tears, would be a picture that Holmes would be unable to erase from his memory. The way that Hanna had shrieked her name in utter hysterics, the way that Toby treated Spencer with such love and dignity despite his primitive protective instincts thrashing to be released…Holmes knew that Jeff Cody had not only crossed the line this time, he had all but launched himself _over_ it out of a goddamn cannon.

He tried something. Holmes knew he did. And he had had the sinking feeling all along that he would…it was only a matter of time. Cody was a stubborn son-of-a-bitch that would do anything to get what he wanted. And there she had been, topless, fleeing from her apartment in hysterics. Only Toby's coat draped over her shoulders provided her modesty. Modesty that she may have difficulty ever getting back.

As Toby marched through the front door of the apartment, Holmes was hot on his heels. He had tried so hard to keep Toby calm the entire night; now, he found himself unable to remember why. Had he been in Toby's shoes, he would have felt equally as infuriated. Equally as protective of the woman he loved. Cody had completely disregarded the feelings of an innocent girl, simply for the sake of proving a point to Toby. He had to pay.

The sight sickened him. Both he and Toby paused momentarily to interpret what they looked upon. There was Cody, cursing under his breath as he pulled his pants back up. He had what distinctively resembled a bite mark on the side of his forehead. The disarray of the furniture indicated that a struggle had certainly taken place. Holmes was openly proud of Spencer for putting up a fight.

"You fucking prick," Toby growled. Before Cody could even turn to find the source of the voice, Toby had already lunged toward him, pinning him back to the floor. He clasped one hand around his throat, the other delivering a swift blow to the side of the head. Cody swore loudly.

"C'mon, man!" Cody cried angrily. "The little bitch already kneed me in the nuts!"

_Good_, Holmes thought. Toby, however, only seemed to hear the part where Cody insulted Spencer. He had lifted Cody by the collar and bodily thrown him into the coffee table. Glass shattered in a million directions, dispersing like a rainstorm. Cody lay facedown inside what was left of the table's frame, groaning heavily and attempting to turn himself over. Toby stood over him menacingly, massaging his bleeding knuckles, watching as he pathetically attempted to crawl away. Just as Cody had clutched onto the couch cushion to pull his weight up, Toby kicked him swiftly in the ribcage. Cody collapsed again, coughing profusely.

Twistedly voyeuristic as he felt, Holmes sat idly by, looking onward. He leaned back against the living room wall and crossed his arms, observing the events unfolding before him. Toby was angry. No – beyond angry. But somehow, he was controlling the animalistic urge to simply murder Cody on the spot. He was remaining calculative and cautious.

Toby got down onto the floor, kneeling one leg purposefully upon Cody's chest to keep him down. Cody wheezed, blood trickling from his nose.

"Now. How about you tell me what the hell happened here?" Toby inquired dangerously. Despite his even tone, Holmes could hear the malevolence behind it. It was as though Toby had drawn a curtain over his anger: it was still present, and it was a driving force…But he wisely was neglecting to let it control him. He knew he needed to keep the upper hand, and that giving in to the blind rage he was feeling would only make him that much more vulnerable.

"She fucking came onto _me_," Cody insisted, his voice choking slightly from Toby's weight upon his sternum. In response, Toby leaned more deeply onto him, causing him to cry out in pain.

"Wrong answer," Toby hissed.

"Okay!" Cody conceded, grasping at Toby's knee in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure on his lungs. "I tried and she didn't want to. Okay?"

"No. Not okay." Toby had lowered his face dangerously close to Cody's, his azure eyes burning into him as though he were willing lasers to come from them. "You see, I found her crying in the hallway. Topless. You want to tell me why that is?"

Cody whimpered in slight, trying to lift his body away. Toby slammed his knee down once more. Cody moaned in agony.

"Did you try to make her do something she didn't want to do?" Toby demanded.

"No!" Cody cried. Toby immediately backhanded him across the face with a deafening _crack_. Holmes would have heard it from downstairs.

"Fine, FINE!" Cody hollered with a sneer, trying to preserve some semblance of his manhood by lifting his head to meet Toby's eyes, as if accepting the challenge. "I pushed her down and tried to take her clothes off." Cody smirked in slight, the split across his lip making the expression more sinister. "But if you ask me, I think she liked it."

"Shut the fuck up!" Toby yelled, thrusting his palm into Cody's Adam's apple. Cody cried out, tears involuntarily seeping from his eyes.

"You're only jealous because she was with me tonight and not you. Doesn't that tell you something?" Cody demanded. He seemed dead set on not letting Toby's intimidation emasculate him, his pale green eyes spitting daggers in their wake.

Toby released a guttural sound that reminded Holmes of something from _Animal Planet_. He had lifted Cody off his feet once more and thrown him towards the wall to his right. Pictures tumbled down over Cody, who clung to the wall in writhing pain. He spit out a tooth that had come loose, glaring in Toby's direction.

"Kicking my ass isn't going to make her love you, you know."

Holmes chanced a glance at Toby. The younger boy was subconsciously massaging his knuckles again, as though deciding what his next move would be. He inhaled deeply, a slight tremor audible in his breath.

"No, it won't," Toby agreed, "but it will make you bleed."

And suddenly, he lunged toward Cody once more, foregoing all discernible traces of the control he previously had. It was a flash of fists and scarlet blood, both men hollering wildly in indignation. Cody was fighting back now, despite his plethora of injuries. Toby's blind fury was serving as immunity to the pain, however, as he continued to thrash at Cody as though his life depended on it.

"HOLMES!" Hanna shrieked from down the hall. "HELP!" Holmes stopped dead in his tracks, snapping back to reality. He dove into the tussle, narrowly missing a few rogue punches along the way. At long last, he had successfully grabbed Toby by the arms from behind, pulling him away from a barely-conscious Cody on the living room floor.

"Let me go!" Toby growled harshly, flailing against Holmes's hold. Despite his primal instincts driving his fighting force, Holmes was stronger than he was and held him at bay easily.

"Cavanaugh…CAVANAUGH! Listen to me!" Holmes cried, wheeling Toby around to look him square in the eyes. "You taught him a lesson, man. It's done. This needs to stop now."

There were tears streaming down Toby's cheeks, his breathing rapidly wheezing from his lungs. "Don't you understand?" he demanded, a slight crack in his tone. "He tried to _force her_!"

"I know," Holmes sympathized sternly, shaking Toby by the shoulders. He was now cradling his head in his own hands, his tremulous breaths loudly echoing throughout the apartment. "I know he did. But we need to help her now. Okay?"

As if on cue, Holmes heard Hanna's cries reverberating down the hallway once more. "Holmes! She needs help!"

Toby's eyes widened at the call. Without another thought, he was darting around the couch and back out the door. Holmes followed quickly behind him.

There sat Hanna, Spencer cradled in her lap. Hanna was sobbing hysterically, shaking her friend helplessly.

"She – she fainted!" she bawled. "I don't know what happened!"

Toby was frozen in fear; he leaned against the wall opposite Hanna, slowly sliding down into a sitting position. Tears were openly pouring from his eyes now as he stared at the love of his life, bruised and unconscious before him.

Holmes kneeled down and gently put his hand on the back of Hanna's head, turning her face to him. "Hanna, listen to me. Hanna – focus."

Hanna's whimpers quieted in slight as she gazed at him desperately. She hugged Spencer tightly to her chest.

"I'm going to take Spencer to her room," Holmes explained calmly. Despite the exterior, he was trying his damnedest to quiet the frantic shouting that was echoing in his own brain. "And then you need to call the police."

"Police?" Hanna whispered indignantly. She looked entirely scandalized at the need.

"It was a sexual assault," Holmes confirmed. His heart broke a bit at Hanna's sob of reply.

"Listen, I'll take care of her," Holmes promised. Hanna's grip on Spencer faltered hesitantly as he lowered himself to lift the small-framed girl into his arms. Hanna was on her feet beside him in an instant.

"What should I say?" Hanna demanded, pushing her tears away impatiently with the palms of her hands.

"The truth," Holmes declared. "That it was an attempted rape."

Hanna sniffled hard, wincing at the word. Nevertheless, she was pulling out her phone and heading down the stairs to make the call.

"Cavanaugh," Holmes quietly called. Toby flinched as if punched, turning to look at Holmes without question. "Cavanaugh, I'm going to take her to lie down."

Toby was on his feet in an instant.

"No," Holmes decided. "You need to calm down first. When she wakes up, seeing you this upset too is only going to send her to pieces."

Toby seemed to consider this for a moment before nodding vaguely.

"Take a few minutes. Meet me in there when you're ready."

With that, Holmes adjusted his hold of Spencer and headed for the apartment door. As he passed Cody, still collapsed on the floor, he took a moment to glare down at him.

"The police will be here any minute," he stated definitively.

Cody scoffed, clutching at his ribs in pain as he did so. "Well that's fan-fucking-tastic…" he muttered.

"Sure is," Holmes agreed. "And when you get to prison, I can only hope that some sick fuck named Bubba takes a liking to you."

"Go to Hell," Cody grumbled.

Holmes was turning toward the hallway now. He smirked to himself before he replied. "Sure thing. I'll be saving you a seat."

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	19. Beating the Odds

**CHAPTER 18**

"I can't believe she hasn't woken up yet. Something's wrong…We should have called an ambulance too."

"She's only been out for ten minutes, Hanna. She's in shock. Just let the poor girl rest."

A stubborn 'harrumph' escaped from Hanna's lips.

"How's Cavanaugh?"

"Devastated…scared…"

"No surprise there…"

"I'm worried, Holmes." Hanna's voice cracked in slight as she said this.

The sound of shuffling feet. "Shh," Holmes soothed. "Everything is going to be okay."

Spencer peeked from under her eyelids to add faces to the voices she so affectionately recognized. Hanna was crying softly into Holmes's shoulder, her face buried from view. Holmes had one arm around her and was rubbing her back comfortingly, looking particularly harried and downtrodden, himself.

"What's going on?" Spencer murmured. They were acting as though someone had died…

Hanna's head jerked up immediately. She began feverishly wiping away tears, as though hoping to hide them before Spencer noticed. She was at her bedside in a flash.

"Hey, honey…How are you?"

"Fine," Spencer replied dazedly, rising into a sitting position. "What – what happened?"

Hanna and Holmes exchanged worried looks. After a moment Spencer understood why. The altercation from earlier in the evening came rushing back to her all at once, giving her the distinct feeling of drowning in the overload.

"Honey…You were – "

"Never mind," Spencer added hastily. "I remember now."

There was a moment of silence.

"I can't believe he would do something like this," Hanna murmured, smoothing down Spencer's hair lovingly. "I'm so sorry."

Spencer wasn't sure how to respond. She felt…oddly numb. A gentle rapping on her doorframe disturbed her reverie. Both she and Hanna looked over to see a young police officer standing in the entryway.

"I'm so sorry to bother you, ma'am," he began, "but we'll need to ask you a few questions."

Hanna looked to Spencer frantically and grasped her hand in protection, as though she were a fragile porcelain doll teetering precariously on the top shelf.

"I don't think now is the time," Holmes was protesting. "She's barely conscious…"

"It's okay," Spencer interrupted. Hanna squeezed her fingers gently. "I know how this works. I'll do whatever I need to do." Spencer beckoned him forward.

"Thatta girl," the officer said kindly. "We'll need to get a statement from you in order to press any charges."

Spencer set her face in what she hoped was a determined fashion. "Like I said. I'll do anything it takes."

"I should have you know," the officer began, "that I'll be asking you to reveal what could be very sensitive or private information. It may be something you're not comfortable talking about in front of others…"

"Right," Holmes stated at once, gathering the officer's meaning, edging quickly towards the door. "We'll give you some privacy, Spence."

"Let us know if you need anything," Hanna added, leaning forward to plant a kiss on her best friend's head. Spencer grasped at her hand.

"Please stay with me." She hadn't meant for it to, but the way in which she pleaded was likened to a small child frightened of monsters under the bed. She hardly recognized the frailty in her own voice.

Hanna's bottom lip quivered for a moment in a sympathetic pout. "Of course I'll stay." She scooted onto the bed next to Spencer, taking her hand and grasping it supportively.

The questioning didn't last long, much to Spencer's relief. Indeed, the officer was correct – much of the rehashing was uncomfortable, and she fought tooth and nail to control the tremor in her voice. It did not go unnoticed by Hanna, however, who would squeeze her hand whenever it began. Her care gave Spencer the strength she needed to continue on in the re-telling.

Once she signed her statement, the officer politely excused himself. Spencer leaned into Hanna's shoulder, exhaling heavily.

"You're so brave, Spence," Hanna marveled, resting her chin upon Spencer's head. "So very brave…"

"I don't feel brave," Spencer murmured. "I feel terrified."

"I know, sweetie…I know…" Hanna began tousling her friend's hair in comfort. "We'll get through this. I promise."

"Where's Toby?" Spencer inquired, sitting up to survey Hanna's face. Hanna blinked several times before responding, as though trying to clear any emotion from her eyes.

"Holmes told him to take a breather. It was...It was gruesome, Spence."

The silence settled for a moment as Spencer soaked in the meaning of Hanna's words. As much as she wanted to ask for clarification, she felt altogether unable to carry any further weight on her shoulders.

"Is he okay?" Spencer asked at last.

"He will be…when he knows you are." Hanna smiled sadly. "Do you want to see him?"

Spencer hesitated. "I don't want him to see me like this," she admitted.

Hanna rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Through sickness and in health," she mused. Her smile faltered in slight as her expression grew serious. "Don't shut him out, Spence. You don't have to be strong all the time."

Try as she might, Spencer could not formulate a viable response. This unspoken reply, however, was enough for Hanna, who stood up and began making her way to the door.

"I'll send him in," she decided. She knew, after all, that it was what Spencer was counting on.

The silence settled once more. She was alone for the moment. Spencer looked scrutinizingly around her bedroom, appraising its personal significance for the first time since she had moved in. So much had changed in these few short weeks. Though all of the furniture and décor was handpicked, she could not help but feel as though she were looking upon a stranger's bedroom. Something in her heart just felt…different.

And suddenly, for the first time in her life, Spencer Hastings found herself terrified at the prospect of being left alone.

She threw the covers back in desperation, rushing for the door. As she made her way down the apartment hallway, she saw that the police and Cody were long-gone. Her living room was empty.

"Oh, no," she muttered, dropping to her knees beside what was left of the coffee table. She grievingly picked up one of the broken legs into her hand, turning it over. What had once been smooth mahogany wood with a polish finish was now splintered down the center. Impure. Ruined. Broken.

She did not dwell on the metaphorical connection.

"Spencer?"

Her gaze shot up, startled. There stood Hanna and Holmes in the apartment doorway.

"My coffee table…" she muttered despondently. She felt silly as soon as she had said it.

"Oh, Spence," Hanna chastised, amused. "Typical…when you should be resting, you're concerned instead about housekeeping."

Spencer failed at hiding the beginnings of a smile. She'd be lying if she said she didn't enjoy the feeling of her lips being involuntarily tugged upright.

"Spencer…" a new voice began distantly. She recognized it at once as she raised her gaze to his. There was an expression in his eyes that she had never seen before. She struggled to find the perfect word to describe it in her own head, but could think of nothing better than 'despair.' It frightened her, in truth: she had not seen him this vulnerable since she had privately spied on him in the alleyway, back in Rosewood.

"We'll give you two some privacy," Hanna decided after a beat. "If you need anything Spence, don't be afraid to call."

Spencer nodded vaguely as Hanna squatted to give her a quick hug. With that, she and Holmes disappeared through the front door.

It was just her and Toby now. She felt suddenly foolish that she was still appraising the table leg in her hands. But for some reason, she could not let it go.

"Everyone was right," she said at last, her breath hitched in her chest. "I was an idiot."

He was at her side in a split second, kneeling before her to cup her face in his hands. "No, no, no. Spencer, listen to me…none of this is your fault."

She shook her head in protest, avoiding his gaze. She could feel the tears beginning to well up in her eyes. "No, Toby. I was being stubborn. I was trying to prove a point to everyone else…to you…to myself…" She took a deep, shuddering breath. "I didn't think about what could happen."

He placed his finger beneath her chin, raising her eyes to his. "The chances are one in a million, Spence," he began soothingly. "You couldn't have predicted this."

"Actually, almost 17 million women per year are the victim of sexual assault," Spencer responded robotically. She was surprised by her own voice. "Sorry – I just wrote a paper about it…"

Toby seemed to be suppressing a smirk. He was failing miserably.

"You bounce back better than anyone I know," he admired, pulling her into his embrace. She willingly allowed herself to lie upon his chest, taking in the comfort of his scent. "You amazing, beautiful girl…"

"Toby?" she asked softly.

"Mmm?"

"I think I need to lie down again," she began, rubbing her temple. "I'm still a little dizzy."

"Sure," he responded immediately. He did not even wait to see if she would pick herself up off the ground; he had already gathered her into his arms. She nuzzled her nose into the crook of his neck as they traveled back to her room. It all but broke her heart when he set her upon the bed. Even though he assisted her in pulling the covers over herself, she felt inexplicably cold outside of his arms. He sat at her bedside and took hold of her hand, silent.

She looked at him questioningly. Though they were touching, he felt too far away. She shivered involuntarily, wishing desperately for him to take her safely in his arms again. It was the only place she felt secure.

"Lay with me?"

"Of course," he murmured. "Scoot over."

She did as told, holding up the corner of the blanket to invite him in. As he scooted in beside her, she mechanically raised her head to place it on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her tightly. This was much better.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't here sooner," he started. She could feel the muscles in his chest tightening with frustration as he spoke. "I could have done something…"

"What matters is that you're here now," Spencer replied. She softly trailed her fingers along his pectorals, absent-mindedly tracing the pattern of the hem on his shirt. She squinted her eyes a bit upon further observation. "You're covered in blood," she stated quietly.

"What?" He raised his head slightly to look down at his own stomach. "Oh," he replied nonchalantly. "It's okay…not much of it is mine."

Spencer gulped involuntarily. There was a pregnant pause.

"I'm sorry about your coffee table," he continued. "That…well…that was my fault."

She did not bother to ask how. She had a pretty good idea.

"I've never had someone defend my honor before…" She took a deep breath. "At the risk of causing Susan B. Anthony to roll over in her grave…I kind of like knowing that you'll always come to my rescue."

Toby chuckled a bit at her reference to the feminist movement. He swirled his fingers through the curly ringlets of her hair. "Like it or not, I always will."

She smiled ruefully into his chest. "I love you."

"I love you too," he stated without hesitation.

Another pause.

"I'm sorry," she offered.

"Sorry?" he asked, perplexed. "What the hell could you possibly be sorry for?"

"For believing all of the nonsense…for doubting you…for ignoring you…for everything," she rambled, shaking her head as she recalled her own defiance. "I should have talked to you…I should have heard you out."

"I don't exactly blame you," Toby replied. He was beginning to trace indiscriminate shapes along her back now. "You heard some harsh things..."

"But they weren't true," Spencer added.

He hesitated before beginning to slowly sit up. "Spencer…"

She didn't like that tone. She didn't like it one bit. She raised herself into a sitting position as well, interrogating him with her gaze.

"You – the – the girls?" she stuttered.

"No," he replied defiantly, shaking his head in desperation. "No, no. No girls. You – well…you were the first."

"The first?" Spencer demanded in surprise. His hurt expression made her feel instantly guilty. "I just – I mean – I thought – Jenna…"

"No," he said firmly. "It never went quite that far."

There was a moment of silence.

"You were mine, too," she provided. She figured it had been obvious, but it felt good to say nonetheless.

He smiled, reaching out to cup her face in his hand. The far-off look had returned to his eyes, as though he were concentrating on the wheels turning in his head.

"What is it?" she asked worriedly.

"Afghanistan," he stated bluntly. He paused to choose his words carefully. "Cody wasn't so wrong about that…I mean, I volunteered to go." Spencer's heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. He must have noticed, because he hastily continued. "But that was months ago. Long before that night at the bar…"

Spencer took a deep, shuddering breath before asking the question she dreaded. "What does that mean?"

His gaze trailed down to the comforter, as though he could not look her in the eyes when he responded. "I got orders to ship out. Just last week." He began chewing nervously on his bottom lip. "It's a short tour, though. Four months."

Spencer willed away the tears that threatened to form. Four whole months?

"I'm so sorry, baby," he began, reaching out for her. She fell easily into his arms as he rocked her gently, back and forth. "I wish with all of my heart that I could go back and change it. I do. And it's not fair to ask you to wait for me…but when I get back, you'll be the first person I want to see. No matter what."

She rubbed at her eyes stubbornly, intent on preventing herself from crying. "When do you leave?"

He hesitated. "Next week."

Her heart felt sore. It was as though somebody had removed it, put it in a pot of boiling water for a few moments, and then returned it to its proper place behind her left breast. It was a dull, bruising pain…one that she was all-too familiar with. She had felt it the day that she broke up with him in Rosewood.

The fear was beginning to creep back in. She couldn't stand its presence. She needed him to help her chase the demons away.

"Kiss me," she commanded softly, distantly aware that she had failed in controlling the tears. She felt their warm invasion trickling down her cheeks. His eyes did a onceover of her face, as if ensuring that this was truly her wish after all that had happened. He then lowered his mouth to hers, capturing her bottom lip between both of his own. He had purposefully approached it in as gentle a way as possible, so as to not startle her. It was she that began deepening the kiss, yearning for his unconditional love. She needed him. She needed that kiss. She needed this connection…the reminder of what intimacy was supposed to be like. The last thing she wanted was for Cody's behavior to taint her views of it.

He was hesitant at first before responding to her urgency. He softly rolled his tongue across her own, trailing his fingers along the side of her jawbone. She shivered expectantly, tugging on his arm to indicate that she wanted him on top of her. _Needed_ him on top of her. She needed to remember the security of making love to him, and him alone.

He did not budge. He continued to kiss her, but would not concede to her demanding gesture. To make her intentions more clear, she began trailing her hands across his waistline, fidgeting with his belt buckle.

He pulled back at once. "Spencer…" he began sternly.

"I want to," she stated fervently. He watched as she struggled with trembling fingers to undo his jeans. The image of Cody fumbling with his own was flashing through her head. She had to remove the memory at once – and the only way she could think of to do so was to create a new memory of Toby instead. "A little help?"

He shook his head ever-so-gently, scooping her hands into his own. "No, Spence."

She paused, struggling not to feel mortified by his rejection. "I need to," she said firmly. Her breath had grown unwillingly shaky during the kiss. "I – I need his image out of my head." She could not meet his eyes; she knew that he would see through her.

"Which is exactly why we can't," he reasoned, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. "Moving past this is going to be a process…and it's going to take time."

Her bottom lip trembled with embarrassment. "I don't want to think about him," she replied desperately. "I want to think about _you_."

"And we'll have plenty of time to make that happen," he comforted, pulling her into his arms once more. "And when it's the right time, I'll be here. Okay?"

She nodded distantly. She knew he was right, of course…But it didn't change the fact that she did not want him to be. "What if I'm not ready before you leave?" she asked sadly.

He did not even bat an eyelash. "Then we'll spend four months building up the anticipation for something wonderful."

She took a moment to let this sink in. She could not believe how unfailingly supportive he was…How she had always been and would always be his first priority. How going four months without sex was of no concern to him.

If possible, she fell more in love with him at that very moment.

She scooted down a little, replacing her head on his chest, as she had done before. She fought to calm her anxiety by concentrating on the rise and fall his chest took with every breath. It was likened to being rocked gently to sleep.

"What's four months, right?" she decided at last. "When after all this time we still found each other?"

He leaned down to kiss her forehead, gently pushing away stray strands of hair that tickled at her face. "We beat the odds once already. We'll do it again."

She smiled softly into his chest. Yes. They would beat the odds.

"I don't know what I'll do without you here, right next to me," she said sleepily, stifling a yawn.

He wrapped his arms tightly around her before responding. "No matter where I am, my heart is always somewhere with you."

She gently kissed him on the chest where her lips rested before she drifted off to sleep.

CONTINUED


	20. Spaghetti Complications

_**A/N: **__Well I'm a dirty little liar. Or – a pretty little liar, if you prefer! I said several times that only a couple more chapters were in the making. However, I changed my mind as to how I want to end the story. So we're still looking at two-ish more. Yay!_

_I appreciate all of the feedback you guys have given me! Thanks so much for all your kindness and support! Some of you have had some really great suggestions, and I'd like to hear more! I'd be interested to see what you guys would like to have happen before we wrap up, and try to work the angle in. I aim to please, after all :-) _

_Happy reading!_

**CHAPTER 19**

Toby awoke to a pounding in his head, not unlike the one he had been enduring for the past several days. He did a quick once-over of his surroundings, remembering that he had fallen asleep beside Spencer in her bed. The pink and purple lights that seeped through the curtain alerted him to the hour: they had spent much of the day sleeping, and now the sun was beginning to set once more.

He studied her sleeping figure carefully, taking note of the bruises that had formed around her wrists and collarbone. He silently seethed with anger, vaguely wishing that Holmes had not extracted him from the fight with Cody. No amount of pain could possibly be enough after what he did.

He heard sounds echoing from the kitchen down the hall, as well as the drone of muffled voices. Gingerly removing his arm from beneath Spencer's body, he quietly lifted himself from the bed and left the room. Hanna and Holmes were in the kitchen, talking in feverish undertones.

"You have to wait until the water boils," Holmes was explaining exasperatedly, attempting to reach around Hanna to take control of the pot on the stove. She stubbornly batted him away.

"I can read, thank you."

"Then why are you trying to pour the noodles in already?" Holmes demanded.

"Because you're rushing me!" she declared indignantly. "I can only do one thing at a time, you know!"

Holmes stepped backward, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. Toby smirked softly to himself as he leaned his body against the dining room wall, unnoticed.

"Fine!" Holmes spat. "If you don't need my help, then I won't bother."

"Good!" she agreed. "Finally, you learn to take a hint!"

Holmes grumbled to himself under his breath. "You're insufferable."

"Same to you," she replied uncertainly, as if unsure of what the word meant. "Make yourself useful and get me the spaghetti sauce."

Holmes rolled his eyes, digging through the paper grocery bags that they had evidently returned with recently. He emptied all of them in their entirety before staring at Hanna with incredulity.

"Where's the sauce, Hanna?" he demanded, deadpan.

"Oh for goodness sake!" Hanna cried, pushing past him to thumb through all of the purchases. She faltered in slight as she realized that his sneaking suspicions were on target.

"You forgot to get sauce. Didn't you?"

"It's not my fault," she defended. "If you hadn't been hurrying me out of the store, then I wouldn't have – "

"Are you really blaming this on me?" Holmes said, baffled.

"Oh, fine! I _forgot_! It was my bad!" Hanna conceded. "Happy now? Can you please go get some?"

Holmes was muttering under his breath about 'women' and 'neediness,' reaching for his jacket on the dining room chair, when he noticed Toby.

"Cavanaugh," he stated definitively. A clatter from inside the fridge alerted Toby that Hanna had also heard this greeting. She rushed over, looking harried.

"Cooking something?" Toby asked sarcastically. Hanna and Holmes both looked sheepishly at one another.

"Well," Hanna began, "after the day that you've both had…we thought we'd do something nice."

Toby's heart swelled with appreciation. He offered a gentle smile to them both.

"Thanks guys. I _am_ getting hungry…"

"Well, not to worry. It won't be much longer now," Hanna said happily. She shot a pointed look at Holmes. "As long as we can get our hands on some sauce…"

"All right, all right, I'm going!" he muttered. "Be back in a bit." With that, he was out the door.

Toby lowered himself into one of the seats, enjoying the slightly entertaining sight of Hanna impatiently sweeping her frizzy hair from her face. She was studying the box of noodles intently, biting on her thumbnail, as if trying to make sense of ancient Hieroglyphics. She seemed to notice that he was watching her, for she turned and offered a small smile of embarrassment.

"Sorry…I don't cook much…"

"I got the impression," he chuckled.

Hanna turned the burner's knob down to slow the boiling process before taking a seat beside Toby.

"How is she?" she asked softly.

Toby paused. He wasn't quite sure, himself.

"Sleeping," he answered honestly. "I think after she feels more well-rested she'll be in better shape."

Hanna nodded distantly as she patted him supportively on the hand, an indiscernible emotion flickering through her eyes. Toby surveyed her carefully.

"Hanna," he began, distinctly ignoring the sinking feeling in his heart that cried out in warning. "What – what did she tell the officer?"

Hanna did not look up to meet his eyes. Instead, she was playing with the hem of her cardigan, as if searching for a reasonable reply.

"I don't think you want to hear it, Toby," she decided at last.

"I need to," he argued. "I need to know what exactly happened…"

"What good will that do?" Hanna asked somberly, raising her head. She still avoided his eyes, however, and was concentrating her gaze on the pot of simmering water. "I think we've reached the point where details will only cause more harm."

"I can guarantee you, what I've been picturing in my head is worse," Toby countered. "If I knew what really happened…I could have some closure."

Hanna was chewing so hard on her bottom lip that she had drawn blood. Toby appraised her face, awaiting her response.

"He wanted to come in after dinner," she began vaguely. "He was drunk. He admitted to lying about all the things he had said about you…He asked to go to her room with her."

Toby's eye twitched involuntarily.

"She told him no. He got angry…He pinned her to the couch…She tried to fight back…" Hanna was speaking now as if she were on autopilot, her eyes traveling to a far-off place that exceeded her own apartment. "He just got more rough. He pushed her shirt up…Started trying to kiss her…When she stopped struggling he stopped holding onto her. She kneed him and ran."

Toby's fists were clenching and unclenching themselves without his control. His blood was boiling at a faster rate than the water had reached, and he could feel his heartbeat in his ears.

"But that's as far as he got," Hanna quipped, turning to face him at last. She seemed to have finally returned to reality. "It could have gone further…it could have been worse."

"Yeah," Toby replied distantly. He knew she was right…But it didn't hurt any less.

She sighed dramatically. "I told you that you probably didn't want to know."

"No," he protested. "No…You're right. It could have been worse."

Hanna was the one staring at him now, as he avoided her eyes. She comfortingly kneaded small circles on his back with her hand.

"Spencer is strong," she offered. "And so are you. You'll both get through this."

"I'm deploying in six days," Toby blurted. Hanna's pseudo-massage ceased instantly.

"Did you tell her?"

"Yeah."

Hanna used her free hand to scratch the back of her neck thoughtfully. "How did she take it?"

Toby shrugged indifferently. "Strong. Like always."

She smiled softly in response. "That's our Spencer…"

He nodded, considering all that his departure would entail. He sighed dejectedly. "I just wish there was something I could do – something really fantastic – that would give her hope while I'm gone."

"You'll think of something," Hanna decided. "You've always been a hopeless romantic."

He chuckled slightly. To some degree it was true – but only when it came to Spencer, certainly. "I just hate hurting her all over again…" He looked to Hanna for unspoken guidance, finding it difficult to articulate what he needed to hear. She seemed to pick up on this cue, for she began rubbing his back once more.

"You guys have gotten through worse," she provided. "I know how much she loves you. Everything will be okay."

Toby could not formulate a coherent reply. He settled for patting Hanna on the knee appreciatively. They sat in silence for a moment before Holmes burst back through the door.

"They were all out of the garlic blend you wanted," he was saying as he rubbed his hands together to generate warmth, the plastic bag slung around his wrist. His face fell as soon as he approached them.

"Oh, no," he muttered. "What happened this time?"

"Nothing," Hanna chirped, smiling broadly for his benefit as she took the bag from him. "Thanks!" She practically skipped back into the kitchen to continue her meal.

Holmes looked uncertainly from Toby to Hanna, as if trying to discern what had happened when he was gone. Toby followed Hanna's lead, also offering a forced smile. Holmes seemed to give up at last, shrugging and taking a seat opposite Toby.

"How are you, man?" he asked sincerely. Toby sighed.

"Better now that he's gone," he replied. It was some version of the truth, at least.

"Aren't we all?" Holmes stated with a scoff. Toby was silently grateful for Holmes's unfaltering loyalty.

"You should go wake her up soon," Hanna decided as she began stirring the noodles into the water. "This will be done in about ten minutes."

"Yeah…Okay," Toby responded half-heartedly. He studied Hanna's meal preparation once more, taking note of something he had not before.

"Hanna," he began, watching as she poured three boxes of spaghetti noodles into the gigantic pot of boiling water. "Are you planning on feeding the entire building?"

Hanna grinned mischievously, exchanging a knowing glance with Holmes, who chuckled slightly.

"Hanna," he demanded pointedly. "What's going on?"

"I'm cooking for six," Hanna quipped happily as she began the process of warming the sauce.

"Six?"

Hanna and Holmes looked at one another again. Hanna tapped her fingernails excitedly on the countertop, as if ready to burst at any given moment. At last she dramatically turned to face Toby with enthusiasm.

"You can't tell Spencer," she disclaimed. Toby mimed the action of zipping his lips and tossing away a key. Hanna looked nervously over Toby's shoulder, as if checking for Spencer eavesdropping. "Emily and Aria will be getting here any minute."

"Seriously?" Toby asked, caught off-guard. Somehow that was the furthest theory from his mind.

"Yeah!" Hanna cried happily. "You see…I called them both earlier to tell them a little about what happened…" A dark emotion flickered through her eyes, but was gone as soon as it had arrived. "They both wanted to fly out to see her. They thought some girl time would be good for her. And I agree."

Toby smiled a little. It was one of the only genuine smiles he had experienced over the course of the day. He knew Hanna was right – the surprise would be a great relief to Spencer, who thrived off the support she gleaned from her friends.

"I think she'll really like that," he confirmed. Hanna squealed softly in excitement, returning to her task of cooking. Toby considered Spencer's reaction, thinking warmly of how appreciative she would be.

And then, the proverbial light bulb illuminated the cloud in his brain.

"Hanna?" he asked suddenly. "Can I ask you a favor?"

_**CONT'D**_


	21. Girl Talk

_**A/N: **Hey guys! Still looking for some suggestions about some things you'd like to see before we conclude our adventure. Lemme know! And please review - it's good karma!  
><em>

**CHAPTER 20**

Six days. He had enough time to pull it off, but it would take a considerable amount of work. He was feeling an obscene level of anxiety now as he considered the implications of his plan. Hanna had immediately supported the idea, brimming with excitement, babbling away about the fine-tuning of details.

It had all become quite a lot to fathom. As Hanna and Holmes finished setting up dinner, Toby excused himself for fresh air. He sat on the front steps of the apartment building, a cigarette in hand, soaking in the last light of the day. The frigid night air did not bother him in the slightest – it was cold like this that reminded him that he was alive, and that he was strong. The pins-and-needles feeling of the brisk cold was unpleasant, but served as an anchor in reality. He leaned back against one of the pillars of the porch, exhaling the drag he had taken.

He had started smoking at basic. A lot of his military comrades partook, despite the impact on their physical fitness. Once released, he and Holmes had made a pact to quit together. However, he still caved occasionally during intense times of stress. Whether the effects were mind over matter or not – it provided him solace when he needed it most.

"Hey, stranger!"

The voice brought Toby back to reality. He saw now that a taxicab was driving away, Emily and Aria heaving duffel bags up the front steps of the building. He could not help but grin when he looked upon Emily, the girl who had been his best friend for so long. She had been there for him when no one else would give him the time of day. If not for her vote of confidence, he would perhaps have never even gotten to know Spencer.

"Long time, no see," he agreed happily. He rose to hug them both, lingering longer with Emily. He had missed her dearly.

"What's that?" Emily asked incredulously, pointing towards the nearly finished cigarette that Toby had set aside on the porch steps. Aria's eyes followed her gesture. He grimaced slightly in response.

"Where's Spencer?" Aria interrupted purposefully, attempting to forego the tension of the situation. Toby absent-mindedly pointed towards the door. She smiled softly in gratitude as she made her way into the building.

"Toby," Emily chastised gently, taking a seat next to him.

"It's okay, I'm finished," Toby insisted, putting the cigarette out on the ground and tossing the butt towards the street. This did not seem to satisfy Emily.

"When did you start that?"

"During training," he offered. "I only have one every once in a while now…when things get a little crazy."

Emily looked upon him sympathetically, affectionately brushing some stray ash from his shoulder. "How are you doing?"

"Not good," he answered immediately. He wasn't sure what it was about Emily in particular that made him spit out the truth in such rapid succession. She had always had that effect on him. "Not only did one of my roommates take advantage of the girl I love, but now I only have six days to make sure she's okay."

"What do you mean?" Emily asked quietly, a gust of wind catching her hair.

"I'm going to Afghanistan," he stated bluntly. She was silent for a moment.

"That's…big news," she provided at last. He nodded distantly.

"And there's nothing I can do about it."

Emily scooted closer to him, taking his hand supportively in her own. "You know…Toby…you don't have to have control over everything, all the time."

This simple statement reverberated within Toby poignantly. She was right – things that were not within his control were the things that hurt him the most. Cody…the deployment…all of it. It was as though the very notion of knowing that these things were not within his power to change was the straw that broke the camel's back.

"If I had known all of this would happen – that Spencer and I would meet again, I mean – I never would have volunteered."

"But everything happens for a reason," Emily murmured. "And you have to make the best of it."

"I know," he consented. "It just doesn't make it any easier."

Emily slipped an arm around his back, cradling her head in his shoulder. They sat like that for a few moments, just enjoying one another's company. Only when the front door flew open did either of them stir.

"Hey, what are you guys doing out here?" It was Spencer. The smile on her face was confirmation that she was pleased with her surprise.

"Just catching up a bit," Emily offered, standing to wrap Spencer in a hug. "How are you?"

"I'm getting there," Spencer chuckled softly. Emily pulled back, glancing pointedly at Toby.

"I'll meet you two upstairs, okay?" With that, she had grabbed hold of her bag and made her way over the threshold.

Toby stood to appraise Spencer, feeling a warmth in his heart as he considered her glowing face. She grasped both of his hands in her own, standing up on her tiptoes to plant a short kiss on his lips.

"It's so good to have them here," she decided, resting her cheek against his chest. He stroked her back lovingly, planting a kiss atop her head.

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."

She craned her head back to look at him, bewildered. "What's the matter?"

Well, _that_ was a loaded question. How could he even begin to answer something like that without splintering Spencer's heart? He had needed to show strength when she could not, so as to give her hope and certainty for their future. If he revealed that he, too, was frightened, she would break.

He forced a grin. "Nothing at all," he replied. "It's just important to me that you're happy."

She smiled softly, intertwining her fingers into his. "Thanks." He squeezed her hand in response.

"We better get inside," she said suddenly. "Holmes was hoovering that spaghetti like he hadn't eaten in days. There won't be any left for us!"

Toby chuckled with her as they made their way back up to the apartment.

* * *

><p>Dinner had been a spectacularly fun event, but the girls would be lying if they said they weren't at least slightly anxious for the boys to leave. What with preparing for college and all, it had been nearly two months since they had had the opportunity to have a true girl's night, and the presence of testosterone seemed to present something of a barrier.<p>

Toby had pulled Spencer into the hallway to give her a loving, affectionate kiss good night. He promised to call her first thing in the morning. She had grinned in reply, finding that the absence of his arms made her feel immediately vulnerable. She had to admit, however, that she was looking forward to girl talk.

They now sat at the kitchen table, engaging in a gossipy game of Spades. Spencer was partnered with Hanna, and was winning – as usual. She kept a neat score board on a piece of notebook paper, buffing her fingernails on the collar of her shirt.

"That's 98 to 67," she announced, accepting Hanna's low five.

"We're never going to catch up, you know," Aria said to Emily disdainfully.

Emily shrugged vaguely in response. "We never do."

"All right – my deal," Hanna stated, taking the deck of cards. She split them in half and bridged them expertly.

"So – Aria," Spencer began, "how's Jason?"

Aria pulled a distasteful face.

"They broke up," Hanna quipped before Aria could even open her mouth to respond. The three girls stared at her incredulously. "What? I saw it on Facebook!"

Aria rolled her eyes and shrugged. "We were doomed from the start," she rationalized. "After everything that happened with Ezra and my parents…" She trailed off, leaving it to the girls to individually recall the events. After they had come out as a couple, Aria had been forbidden to see him. Ezra, likewise, was uncomfortable maintaining their relationship while his career was on the line. "Well – in any case – Jason was always kind of a rebound."

"Are you okay?" Spencer asked supportively. Aria smiled.

"Yeah. Actually, I ran into Ezra at Starbucks right before school started…We've been kind of talking."

"Good," Hanna offered. "I always liked him better, anyways."

"Now _you_, Miss Nosy," Spencer began, pointing an accusing finger towards Hanna as she began dealing out the cards. "I have some questions for you, too."

"We live together," Hanna said, deadpan. "What could I possibly have to hide from you?"

"Well, for one," Spencer started, "I'd like to know what's going on with you and Holmes."

Hanna furrowed her brow in confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Emily piped in, "that you guys were finishing each other's sentences all night and laughing at inside jokes that the rest of us didn't understand."

"So?" Hanna demanded. She studied each of their disbelieving faces, looking scandalized. "Oh, my God. Are we really going to have the whole 'a boy and girl can be friends without liking each other' talk again?"

"Looks like it," Aria quipped.

"Come on!" she cried. "I told you guys the same thing when you were worried about Lucas."

"And he turned out to be obsessed with you, if I recall," Spencer added sarcastically.

"Which complicated things…yeah…" Hanna agreed. "But with Holmes it's different. I dunno. We spent a lot of time together the past couple of days, what with trying to look out for you…" Spencer felt a pang of guilt when Hanna said this, but knew it was unintentional. "It's like that whole theory that people who go through something stressful together have a special bond."

"Excitation transfer," Spencer clarified automatically, recalling the term in her Psychology book. "I mean – sorry."

Hanna rolled her eyes. "Yeah, something like that, I guess. Anyway, we just have fun together. That's all."

"That's all for _you_," Emily muttered. "What's he feeling?"

"The same," Hanna said impatiently. "He's been seeing this girl in his Economics class. He's not interested in me like that."

"I suppose," Spencer said at last. "Besides, now that you mention it, he seems to make fun of you far too often to ever be able to put up with you."

"Thanks – I think," Hanna said uncertainly, knowing that she both won and lost the argument at the same time.

"And you, Em?" Aria inquired. "Last time we talked we didn't really get a chance to discuss your love life."

"Yeah, well," Emily began nonchalantly. "There's not much to say. I joined an LGBTQ support group at my school…I've been meeting a lot of great people, but I want to just focus on college for now."

"LGBTQ?" Hanna asked blankly.

"Lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, or questioning," Emily answered. "Basically a club for anybody who identifies as something _other_ than straight."

"They have those?" Hanna demanded, curiosity piqued.

"Something you need to tell us, Han?" Spencer asked hesitantly, only half-joking at her reaction.

"No! Stop!" Hanna declared. "I just…didn't know. That's awesome for you, Em."

Emily smiled softly in response before turning to Spencer. "You're the last one to fill us in," she decided.

Spencer smiled half-heartedly, looking as though she'd rather have a root canal than divulge. "Things with Toby are good…I mean, they're getting there." She cleared her throat. "It's been a rough, unconventional week. And we're about to dive into another turbulent adventure of an entirely different species. But I love him more than I ever imagined I could love another person…And that's gotta count for something, right?"

Emily reached over to pat Spencer's hand supportively. "That counts for everything, Spence."

Hanna was hiding her face behind her playing cards, giggling quietly to herself. Spencer looked across the table at her, annoyed.

"What's so funny?"

"I know something you don't know," Hanna said in a sing-song voice. "I can't tell you though."

"What?" Spencer demanded irritably. "Hanna! You know I hate surprises!"

"That's half the fun," Hanna decided, smirking in Spencer's direction. Spencer's face of stone did not falter. "Oh, lighten up, Spence. If it was something horrific I would tell you. You know that."

Spencer slouched slightly in her chair, sulking. "I hate when you guys do this to me…"

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't have the slightest idea what she's going on about," Aria offered. Hanna leaned over excitedly, as if to whisper it in her ear, but Aria pushed her away laughingly. "And I don't _want_ to know! It'll only piss Spencer off more!"

"Damn straight," Spencer muttered.

"Seriously," Hanna began, "if I thought it would be better to tell you now and like, warn you or something, I would. Just trust me."

Spencer grumbled under her breath as she threw out the Ace of Spades onto the table. The girls all groaned in response as they followed the suit of cards.

"This was my only spade," Emily sighed, throwing out her 2.

Spencer grinned, as if forgetting the entire exchange that had just taken place. "Read it and weep!"

"I'm done with this game," Aria said irritably. "No offense, Spencer, but losing to you gets old after a while."

"Oh, come on!" Spencer cried. "It's not that bad!"

"No, it's boring," Emily agreed. "Let's try something that Aria and I could have a slim chance of winning…"

"Guitar Hero!" Aria cried triumphantly. Emily high fived her in response. Spencer groaned.

"I suck at that game!"

"That's the idea," Aria gloated, grabbing Spencer by the arm and dragging her out of her seat. "Be a good sport, Spence."

Spencer muttered to herself. "Fine. But don't expect me to enjoy it."

The others rolled their eyes good-naturedly before Emily at last responded. "We wouldn't have it any other way, Spence."

**_CONTINUED_**


	22. Fantasy and Reality

_**A/N: **__All right guys! The final two chapters back to back! As promised, this will be followed by a brief epilogue. I'm also hoping to devise a sequel sometime in the future. _

_Please enjoy!_

**Chapter 21**

Spencer awoke at 11 o'clock the next morning in a mildly cranky mood. The girls had all camped out on the living room floor, true to sleepover form. Ultimately, nothing had changed: she still had to unpleasantly bat Aria's feet away from her face multiple times throughout the night, and had been awoken for the final time by Hanna snoring softly right next to her ear. As much as she loved her friends, she didn't miss the sleepless nights of having them bunked next to her.

However, she knew that the alternative would have been much worse. With the amount of times she had woken up in the middle of the night to repetitive nightmares of Jeff Cody's sinister face, the company on all sides of her was comfort enough to assist her in peacefully falling back to sleep. Had she been alone, there was no telling how she would handle her torturous subconscious.

Sleepily she made her way into the kitchen, preparing the coffee pot for the four of them. As she waited for it to brew, she rifled through the notifications on her phone. With a smile, she saw that Toby had texted her, asking her to let him know when she wanted him to call. She responded, "_Give me a half hour_," taking the girls' slumber into consideration. When the coffee was finished, she would wake them up.

In all honesty, she hated that he was leaving. After all that had happened over the course of the past few days, she wasn't sure how much more heartbreak she could take. But she had to support him: it was his duty, and it was what he had hoped to achieve before she had come back into the picture. And there would be no way out of it. She knew enough about the military to know that one could not simply refuse to deploy. It was a stipulation of their contract. Unless Toby wanted a dishonorable discharge status on his resume for the rest of his life, there would be no stopping it. She would just have to suck it up.

Much like the incident with Cody. As much as it haunted her brain, she refused to be the girl that wallowed in self-pity over the 'what ifs' and 'what could have been'. The fact of the matter was that she fought back and was able to stop it. There was no reason to feel sorry for herself or feel perpetually frightened. The situation had been handled, and it was time to move on.

…Right?

"Smells fantastic," Hanna muttered tiredly as she entered the kitchen, rubbing at her eyes. Her hair was haphazardly sticking up in all directions, indicating that she had slept like a rock. At least one of them had.

"Nothing like a pot of coffee to start the day," Spencer agreed. It had almost finished brewing. She extracted four mugs from the cupboard and set out the cream and sugar, organizing the set-up in the most symmetrical way possible. Though it was just Emily and Aria, she wanted the display to look nice.

"Toby told you about tonight, right?" Hanna inquired as she lazily began pouring coffee into the mug she had selected.

"What about it?"

"He and Holmes are taking the four of us out to dinner tonight. The Melting Pot," Hanna quipped with a grin. "I've been wanting to go there since we moved in!"

"Oh," Spencer muttered quietly. As tempting as it sounded, she had secretly been counting on being alone with Toby for the evening.

"I'm impressed, by the way," Hanna continued, sipping on her coffee as she leaned back against the counter. "I was expecting a full-blown argument this morning about whether you got to go to class or not."

"What?" Spencer cried, her heart falling into the pit of her stomach. "Oh, my God! I completely forgot!"

Hanna rolled her eyes. "With all you went through this weekend, I'm not surprised."

Spencer looked frantically at her watch. "I can still catch my second class," she was muttering to herself, hurriedly digging through the cupboards for a travel mug to put her coffee in. Hanna turned Spencer to face her, none-t0o-gently.

"Spence," she said sternly, her voice dripping with maternal support. "Stop. You had the weekend from hell. Not to mention, your boyfriend is leaving in five days. Take a week off, for God's sake. You deserve it."

Spencer knew that she was probably right, but there was a knot in her chest that generally accompanied the anxiety of shirking responsibility. She hated missing school.

"Besides," Hanna continued, "you've already turned everything in from now until Halloween. I'm sure your instructors will let it slide."

"What about you?" Spencer demanded.

"I don't have Monday classes," Hanna pointed out. "Remember? You _should_ – you practically made my course schedule _for_ me…"

"True," Spencer replied thoughtfully. "This sucks, Han…I should really be there…"

"Well, you're not going," Hanna said firmly. "And that's final."

"What about Aria and Emily?" Spencer asked.

"Using sick days for today, flying out tomorrow morning for their Tuesday classes," Hanna explained impatiently. Just as Spencer opened her mouth to protest that the girls need not miss class for her, Hanna roughly continued as if predicting what she would say. "They chose to come out here to be there for you, Spence. Don't look a gift horse in the ass."

Spencer chuckled softly. "Mouth."

"What? That's gross!'

"No, that's the way the saying goes," Spencer reasoned. "Don't look a gift horse in the _mouth_."

"That doesn't make any sense," Hanna scoffed indignantly. "What does a horse's mouth have anything to do with it? Now looking at its _ass_ is something you shouldn't do. Mine is better."

Spencer rolled her eyes good-naturedly as she began to prepare her own coffee. "Whatever you say, Han."

A moment of silence settled between the two of them for a minute before Hanna's face grew somber. "How are you doing today, Spence?"

"Fine," Spencer muttered. It was growing tiresome to continue answering the same question over and over again. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Hanna was well aware of the fact that Spencer was avoiding her eyes. She cleared her throat purposefully, propping herself up onto the counter. "You went through something really scary…" she began before trailing off, as if afraid to finish the sentence.

Spencer scoffed nonchalantly. "There are children in Namibia who are starving every day. _That's_ scary. Fending off a hormonal horn dog is like a walk in the park compared to that."

"Spencer," Hanna began tiredly. "It's okay to be upset about what happened."

"Well I'm not. Okay?" Spencer stated definitively, turning her face to Hanna to look her in the eyes. "Yeah…what happened sucked. But it happens every day, all around the country. There are more important things to worry about."

"Like Toby leaving?" Hanna quipped quietly. Spencer exhaled heavily before turning away once more.

"Yeah. Things like that."

"We'll get through it," Hanna promised, reaching out to squeeze Spencer's shoulder. "I promise."

Spencer could not help but smile softly at this statement. "I know, Han. Thanks though."

Another pregnant pause followed.

"Are Emily and Aria staying here again tonight?"

"No," Hanna muttered distastefully. "They got a hotel room for tonight. Something about not wanting to impose on us, blah blah blah, yada yada yada. I tried to talk them out of it, but there was no winning."

"Seriously?" Spencer demanded. "I'm more than happy to have them here!"

"I tried to tell them that," Hanna agreed. "Trust me. I spent an hour trying to convince them otherwise. No budging."

"Frustrating brats," Spencer said with good-natured disdain.

"What did you call us?" Emily demanded jokingly as she traipsed into the kitchen, pulling her stick-straight ebony hair up into a ponytail. Spencer had always hated how Emily could sleep through an entire night and wake up still looking picture perfect. It was utterly maddening.

"Why are you leaving tonight?" Spencer asked ruefully. "You know you guys can stay…"

"We're not having this conversation again," Emily said laughingly. "Listen, the apartment is only so big…it's not fair for us to stay here again."

"You're being ridiculous," Hanna offered.

"Well, you're not changing our minds," Emily stated definitively. "Now – how about sharing some of that coffee?"

* * *

><p>The day progressed at a much faster pace than Spencer was comfortable with. She wasn't sure when she would see Emily and Aria again after this visit, and time was not being kind to her. Likewise, it was simply swallowing up another day of Toby being home. She had the sickening, sinking feeling that this trend would continue throughout the rest of the week.<p>

Around 3 o'clock, the girls had left. Hanna had gone with them to be sure they got settled into the hotel okay, reminding Spencer that they were meeting at The Melting Pot at 5 and that Toby would be by to pick her up.

Spencer now sat alone in the empty apartment, trying to immerse herself in a book to soften the anxiety of being left to her own creeping thoughts. She had chosen _Harry Potter_ to read, knowing that the magical world in which the story took place was the ideal way to take her out of her own head. _Goblet of Fire_, in particular, was one of her very favorites, and it was the one that incidentally sat in her lap.

Now Tri-Wizard Tournaments were _scary_. Just like the starving children in Namibia. Harry and his cohort were putting their lives on the line for the sake of glory and a stupid trophy, fighting against the urge to give into fear. What they were accomplishing was brave – not what Spencer had endured. Totally different scenarios.

Spencer was reading contentedly about Harry's preparation for the First Task when a particular passage jumped out at her.

_It's a strange thing, but when you are dreading something, and would give anything to slow down time, it has a disobliging habit of speeding up. _

She slammed the book shut irritably without so much as blinking. It just figured – she was using the book as a method of escapism, only to be thrust back into the bleak reality she currently faced. What was it about literature that caused that to happen so frequently? It was supposed to be about getting your head out of your own world – why did authors insist on subtly reminding you of your own fears?

_Because all the greater themes of life are interwoven between fantasy and reality_, she answered silently to herself, her inner voice dripping with disdain. She sighed dejectedly and sunk into a lying position on the couch. Perhaps a nap would calm her racing thoughts.

As much as she wanted to spend time with Aria and Emily, she was beginning to feel sick to her stomach once more. Try as she might to suppress the overbearing feeling of the settling depression, she was finding that it was becoming increasingly difficult to muster. She had trusted a man that she thought was her friend, and he tried to take advantage of her…And the man that she loved was leaving her in her darkest hour.

_It's not his fault_, she recited internally. She knew it to be true, but it did not change the fact that a small part of her resented him for it.

She curled herself up into a ball, fighting the urge to start crying again. She hated feeling sorry for herself. It was a sign of weakness – a taboo in the Hastings household since as far back as she could remember.

A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. Before she could even consider the pros and cons of answering, it was already opening. She shot up like a bullet, a sick feeling of dread in her heart as she realized that Hanna had not locked it behind her. Her blood froze in her veins, putting her body on high alert. Instinctively, she grabbed the 740 page hardcover book she had been reading, prepared to launch it at an unwanted visitor.

"Spencer?"

It was only Toby. She tremulously lowered the book, forcing a smile for his benefit.

"Sorry," she muttered.

His blue eyes shined with intense worry. She saw that he was dressed nicely in a button-up blue shirt and black pants, looking as though he were prepared for a job interview.

"You just startled me," she continued, hoping to ease his concern. He approached her on the couch, taking a seat beside her and pulling her into his chest for a gentle hug. She smiled involuntarily as the scent of his cologne fluttered into her nostrils.

"It's almost time for dinner," he said, pulling away only slightly to survey her. "You're not even dressed."

"Oh," she began half-heartedly, extracting her body from his hold. "I don't think I'm going to go…"

"What do you mean?" Toby demanded. "You have to."

"I don't _have_ to do anything," Spencer replied indignantly, standing. She crossed her arms protectively over her chest, praying that Toby would let it go. She did not want to spend one of his last days arguing.

Toby stood too, a certain version of panic flickering through his eyes. "Spencer, please. I organized this so that you could have a nice last night with your friends…"

"Which I appreciate," Spencer agreed. "But I'm not in the mood to go out in public. That's all."

"Should I have them come here instead?" Toby asked hurriedly.

"No," Spencer said. "Let everyone go out for dinner. It'll be nice for them."

"Spencer, what is this about?" Toby demanded worriedly as he approached her, rubbing her arms gently. "Are you afraid of your friends seeing that you're feeling something _other _than strong? Because you know that they will always – "

Spencer cut him off. "I'm fine," she spat irritably, pulling away from his hold.

Toby's jaw clenched in slight, indicating to Spencer that he was growing more frustrated with her by the minute. "You're not acting like it."

"I'm not one of Jenna's stupid snow globes, okay?" Spencer insisted. "I'm not going to shatter if you drop me. And you need to stop treating me like it."

"Then why don't you want to go?" Toby pressed, a hint of a growl in his voice.

"Because I don't fucking feel like it!" Spencer cried. She had attempted to keep her voice at a reasonable level for quite some time, and found that she was done trying.

"Spencer," Toby began slowly, "this is really important to me."

Her heart broke slightly at this plea. She knew that she was hurting him by refusing, but she felt that she had to stand her ground. Hadn't everybody been telling her that it was time to worry about _herself_? No one else? Isn't that what she was doing?

"What about what's important to _me_?" she demanded incredulously. Toby's face fell. He chewed meticulously on the inside of his cheek, as if trying to formulate a viable response. He did not speak, nor did he indicate that she was right. She found herself annoyed that the wheels were still turning in his head in spite of her wishes. The conversation should have been over right then and there.

Suddenly, despite how much she loved him, she had no desire to be around him any longer. "I'm going to go take a shower," she stated harshly, marching down the hallway and grabbing her robe from the linen closet. She did not look back at him, but could feel his eyes burning into the rear of her skull. "You can show yourself out. Lock it behind you." With that, she yanked the bathroom door shut more violently than she had intended.

How dare he try to make her do something she didn't want to? Did she _not_ just go through a situation just like that? If everybody thought she was so delicate, why would they remind her of the things that were hurting her the most? She knew their intentions were inevitably kinder than Cody's had been, but it didn't change the fact that she was feeling a particular need to make a spectacle of her own independence. Making her own decisions was very important to her right now. She didn't like to be pushed. Wasn't Toby the one who was supposed to understand that?

She climbed into the shower, certain to turn the water to one of the hottest settings. She lived for scalding showers that would burn away the hurt and anger in her soul.

He was pounding on the door. "Spencer. Come on."

"No," she stated definitively, striving to make her point known. Admittedly, there was a part of her that wanted to open the door to him and rush into his arms, apologizing for being stubborn. However, a bigger part of her was afraid to give in. That part of her was also sheepishly aware of the development of twisted logic: that if she was angry with him, it might be easier to watch him go…

"Spencer…"

"GO AWAY!" she hollered, her voice involuntarily cracking as she did so. She didn't want him to go away…that was the opposite of what she wanted. That was the whole problem…

And then, for the first time, he conceded. She heard the muffled sound of angry footsteps marching away from the bathroom door. He was leaving.

The tears stung in her eyes as she realized that this was the one command she had secretly _wanted_ him to violate. She didn't _want_ him to go away…She needed him to stay. She knew it extended past just today – she wanted him to stay here. Home. In Ann Arbor. Where he belonged. The idea of him leaving for four months was breaking her heart…

Once she was certain he was truly gone, she choked out a despondent sob. She frustrated herself with how ridiculous she was being, but she couldn't help it. She was in pain…and she had no idea how to make it go away.

Ironic, wasn't it? – The things she needed to stay were going away, and the things she wanted to leave were insistent upon sticking around.

She unwillingly broke down into tears under the stream of water, wishing for anything but the harsh reality that surrounded her.


	23. Surprise!

**CHAPTER 22**

Toby shuffled sheepishly into the semi-formal restaurant 45 minutes later, having needed a brief walk to cool down. He was terrified of explaining to the others what had happened. That he had totally messed the entire plan up. That he hadn't stopped to think that what he was asking of her may not be what she wanted at all…

He was ashamed. He should have known. He should have thought of her fears and her worries, and considered that what she wanted may be different than what he wanted.

"Hey!" Aria greeted warmly as he found their table. She and Emily smiled in welcome. Hanna and Holmes had been chuckling in undertones at the opposite end, looking up only to acknowledge his presence.

It was Emily's face that fell first. "Where's Spencer?"

"Not coming." Toby took his seat definitively, flaring his cloth napkin across his lap, trying to ignore their burning gazes.

"Not coming?" Hanna demanded. "What do you mean, _not coming_?"

"I _mean_," Toby began dejectedly, "that she didn't want to."

"Why?" Aria asked softly.

Toby shrugged, trying to portray what he hoped would resemble indifference. "Didn't feel well."

"Cavanaugh," Holmes began sternly. "You fucked it up, didn't you?"

Hanna sharply backhanded his chest in disapproval. Holmes's hand flew up to the burgeoning bruise, massaging his pectoral sheepishly.

"I dunno what happened," Toby admitted. "I guess I didn't really think that she might not be up for more socializing…"

"It's okay, Toby," Emily said comfortingly, reaching across the table to pat his hand supportively. "She's in a weird place right now. She'll come around."

"I just don't want to spend the last few days fighting with her," Toby confessed. "Why does she have to insist on being so stubborn?"

"Women," Holmes agreed disdainfully. Hanna hit him again. "Ow! STOP THAT!"

"She's probably trying to make it easier for herself," Aria stated, ignoring Holmes's outburst. "Being angry at someone is a lot less painful than being upset…"

"Yeah," Toby agreed absentmindedly. He knew that Aria was right, but it didn't change how frustrating Spencer's behavior had been. It wasn't that he didn't understand – because he did. But he didn't want her to be angry with him over the course of the next few days…

"Spencer," Aria stated blankly.

Toby looked up sharply at the others, who were staring behind him in surprise. He turned to look over his shoulder, seeing that, indeed, Spencer was walking bashfully up to the table. She wore a simple black dress that hugged her figure in all the best places. She had curled her hair into ringlets that adorned either side of her face, flattering the shape of her cheekbones. His breath hitched in his chest. She looked beautiful.

"Hey," she replied softly, taking the empty seat beside Toby. She did not meet his eyes.

"Just in time," Hanna chirped, making a concerted effort to soften the tension. "We were just about to order!"

Spencer nodded noncommittally, burying her face in the menu. "This looks pretty complicated," she stated.

"It's all fondue," Hanna was explaining excitedly. She leaned over the table to point at certain items as she continued. "You get cheese first, then salad, then the entrée, then dessert. See, there are a lot of different cheese blends…"

Toby's attention to Hanna's lecture faded away. He could feel his heart beating in his ears as he wracked his brain for some way to make things right. Some way to indicate to her that he was sorry for trying to push her into something she didn't want to do…That he understood and was grateful she was here now. That he loved her more than the breath in his own lungs and wanted to make the next few days as magical as possible…

He settled for putting a gentle hand on her knee. She did not look at him, but after a moment, consented to resting her own hand atop his. Her fingers gently squeezed.

It was enough. It was an unspoken understanding and apology from both parties. And it was sufficient to make Toby feel considerably calmer.

As dinner progressed, Spencer seemed to lighten up little by little. Eventually, Holmes had her in stitches laughing as he told a story about some drunk guy in his English class who had passed out snoring mid-lecture. Toby observed happily as tears of mirth trickled from Spencer's eyes and she clutched at her side. This was his beautiful, joyful Spencer…The girl that he had fallen in love with, and the girl that he hoped would eventually be okay…

He continued to admire her face when she thought he wasn't looking. The sparkle was beginning to return to her chocolate eyes, and she sat up straighter as the weight began to lift from her shoulders. He knew she would be okay. She was the strongest person he knew. But he knew it would also take time…No matter how strong a person is, traumatic events can't just disappear. It takes a certain amount of adjustment and a certain amount of acceptance. He knew that she, of all people, would conquer this – just like she had conquered all of the other challenges and hardships in her life. Even if it came down to her primitive drive for success, she would make it happen.

When at long last dinner had concluded, Emily reached into her purse and extracted her hotel key.

"So…" she began uncertainly, unsure of how to make her point. "Aria and I talked it over – and we decided that you may have been right, after all."

"About what?" Spencer inquired, perplexed.

"About us staying at the apartment," Aria added. "You said that there was no possible way that we could impose. And we decided that you and Hanna know best."

"Of course," Spencer responded boastfully. Aria and Emily exchanged knowing glances before continuing.

"So – " Emily continued, presenting Spencer with the key card. "We decided that you and Toby should have the room."

A blush rose in Spencer's cheeks as she considered this. Toby feigned surprise, for he knew that the hotel room key had always been part of the plan. He had, however, thought that it would be a no-go after the disaster that had taken place earlier. And that part of him did not have to fake it.

"I – we couldn't," Spencer insisted, looking to Toby for assistance. "You already paid for it."

"I don't care," Emily stated definitively, pushing the card into Spencer's hand and closing her fingers over it. "We won't be staying there. And that's that. So either you and Toby take some time to spend together, or nobody stays there and we're just out two hundred dollars."

Spencer chewed on her lower lip. She did not like being outwitted in the slightest. At last she sighed, studying the key card in her hand. "Fine."

"All right. Settled," Aria concluded, standing from the table. "Now come and hug us good-bye."

Spencer chuckled softly and did as told. Toby watched as she mournfully bid her friends farewell, holding onto hugs far longer than she typically would. He knew she hated to say good-bye all over again. It hardly seemed fair that she had to say so many of them in such a short amount of time…

"We'll be back before you know it," Emily was telling her as she moved to hug Toby. Toby glanced over Emily's shoulder at Spencer laughing quietly with Aria, Hanna, and Holmes.

"Don't waste any more time," Emily whispered in his ear, planting a kiss on his cheek. She pulled back and studied his face, smiling, maternally straightening the collar of his shirt.

"I'll miss you," Toby told her softly. She nodded in reply.

"I'll miss you, too. But we'll see each other again. Soon."

Toby smiled somberly as she hugged him one last time.

He and Spencer watched disdainfully as Holmes and Hanna escorted the girls away from the restaurant, ultimately heading back to the apartment. Spencer was fidgeting with the hotel key in her hand, looking particularly nervous.

"This doesn't mean we have to do anything," Toby spoke supportively, wrapping her into a protective hug. "We know that, and they know that. It's just a chance for us to spend some time with each other."

This statement of reassurance seemed to cheer Spencer up slightly, as she smiled and planted a small kiss on his lips. "I'm happy we have the chance," she agreed.

The car ride to the hotel was one masked in silence. It was not of the awkward variety – merely contentment and perhaps dinner-related sleepiness. Spencer still reached across the center console to gently rub Toby's knee, indicating that she was enjoying his company. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel nervous or uncomfortable. That was not what this night was about…He mentally crossed his fingers, praying internally that he could calm her worries for just one night.

It wasn't until they had opened the door to unveil the honeymoon suite that Spencer found her voice again.

"Oh, my God," she muttered in amazement, studying the room's décor. There was a large Jacuzzi tub situated in the corner of the room, as well as a comfortable-looking king-sized bed with rose petals sprinkled across the comforter. She looked to Toby suspiciously, a small smile grazing her features.

"Am I supposed to believe that this was the room that Emily and Aria were planning on sleeping in tonight?" she asked sarcastically.

Toby grinned in response. "Nice work, detective. You found us out."

Spencer trailed her fingertips along the edge of the bed, looking thoughtfully down at it. She turned back to Toby questioningly, looking slightly anxious once more.

"I'm not expecting anything," he reassured again, approaching her to wrap his arms around her waist from behind. He rested his chin upon her shoulder, softly kissing her ear lobe. "All this bed is for is sleeping on."

He felt the muscles in Spencer's jaw tighten slightly as she smiled. She turned to look at his face on her shoulder, reaching up with one hand to stroke his cheek. "You're the most amazing person in the entire world," she whispered. He turned his face slightly to plant a kiss on her hand.

"I can't agree with you there, you see, because I feel the same way about you," he explained sweetly. "So we'll just have to agree to disagree."

Spencer chuckled in response, pulling away to take a seat on the bed. She moaned softly as she yanked her heels from her feet, massaging her toes greedily. "I hate those things," she muttered.

Toby laughed, beginning to unbutton his dress shirt. "Well, you don't need to wear them for me. As far as I'm concerned, you can burn them all in a bonfire."

She grinned. "It's surprisingly tempting," she agreed.

He fished his t-shirt and pajama pants out of the bag that Hanna, Aria, and Emily had brought to the hotel for him. He noticed that Spencer was involuntarily staring at his bare chest beneath the unbuttoned shirt. He suppressed a smile and instead made his way to the bathroom, so as to more appropriately undress. He did not want her to feel that any of it was intended to sway her decision. After pulling his pajamas on, he set his dress clothes on the bathroom counter in a confused heap, returning to the main room.

Spencer was sitting thoughtfully on the bed, her eyes trained on the bag that Toby had extracted his clothes from.

"Are there things in there for me?" she asked softly.

"As a matter of fact, there are," Toby smiled, digging into it once more. He pulled out one of Spencer's lacrosse t-shirts and a pair of pajama shorts. "Hanna took these from your room last night after you fell asleep."

Spencer rolled her eyes. "That sneaky wench," she said laughingly. She, too, stood and made her way back to the bathroom.

As she undressed, she studied herself in the mirror. There were still bruises on her collarbone, and a few hickeys near her breasts that she had not previously noticed. She gingerly touched them, aching as she considered their origin. She hated him with a fiery passion. She had never hated someone so much in her entire life…

She dressed quickly so as to not dwell on the markings of her body. In her haste, she mistakenly bumped Toby's clothes off the sink. She sighed softly to herself in annoyance, picking up his shirt and folding it nicely to replace it on the counter. She grabbed his pants to do the same, startled to find that something quite heavy tumbled out of the pocket and to the floor.

She reached down to get it, her heart fluttering as she studied its appearance. It was a velvet box, the kind that often housed the nicest sorts of jewelry.

"How sweet," she murmured to herself with a smile. He didn't have to get her a gift to show that he loved her…she knew with all of her heart that he did.

Her adult brain told her that she should put it back where she found it and forget about it until he was ready to give it to her, himself. However, the part of her that still clung to childhood was guiltily curious. She wanted to look inside. She could feign surprise later. She had done it before…he would never be the wiser.

She flipped the top open, and her heart just about launched itself from her chest.

"Spencer," Toby cried as he hurriedly padded around the corner and into the bathroom doorway. It was as though he had suddenly remembered leaving it in there and was hoping to sneak it away. He stared at the box in her hands, gulping. "Listen…I can explain…"

Her eyes flickered from him to the box, feeling lost for words. When she spoke, her voice came out in nothing but a whisper. "It's an engagement ring."

He shook his head fervently, grabbing the box from her hands. "It was a silly idea," he insisted nervously, half-heartedly fingering the diamond jeweled, white gold band.

She surprised herself when a sad knot descended into her stomach. She walked toward him slowly, craning her neck to meet his eyes.

"Why is it so silly?" she asked softly.

"Because," Toby began, pulling the ring from its velvet nest and closing it in his fist protectively. "I already told you that I don't expect you to wait for me while I'm gone…And it wouldn't be fair to give this to you after I said that."

"Is that what tonight was all about?" Spencer asked curiously, fighting to calm the fluttering beat of her heart.

He sighed dejectedly. "Yeah. I was going to ask you before dinner…Dinner and the hotel room were meant to be part of a celebration." He scoffed quietly to himself. "I didn't even consider the fact that you might say no…I was being selfish."

She gently took his fist in her hand, uncurling his fingers to gaze at the ring once more. She looked up at him questioningly.

"How would you have asked me?" she murmured.

He stared into her eyes, blinking rapidly as though to make sense of what she was asking. He cleared his throat and stepped closer to her. "I was going to tell you how much I love you," he began quietly. "How I've loved you since the day at the Pinewood Motel. How you being comfortable sharing your vulnerability with me was the single most beautiful thing I've ever experienced." He took a deep breath. "I would tell you that the entire time we were apart, I never stopped thinking about you. That I kept a picture of you in my wallet and I looked at it every day."

Spencer reached up to gingerly stroke his face. He gulped involuntarily and continued.

"I would tell you that I can't imagine my life without you, and that even when I _had_ to be without you, I never let you go."

Spencer traced her thumb along his bottom lip. "Would you have gotten down on one knee?" she asked curiously.

He nodded enthusiastically, seemingly finding his confidence once more. As if on cue, he clumsily tumbled down to the floor in the fashion she had just described, holding the ring out before her.

"What would you have done if I said yes?" Spencer asked now, the beginnings of tears clinging to her eyelashes.

"I would put the ring on your finger…like this," Toby said softly, sliding the band delicately onto her left ring finger. He slowly stood up, still clinging to her hand. "And I would tell you how much I love you and how I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

Spencer smiled, choking softly on a sob that lodged in her throat. "That's the most beautiful proposal I've ever had," she stated.

Toby chuckled nervously, placing his hands upon her hips. "I'm hoping it's the _only_ proposal you've ever had…"

She laughed quietly too, though it was immediately swallowed by a tearful cry. He gently reached one hand to her face to wipe away her tears with his thumb. "It's my turn to ask you a question now," he decided, his voice so low that she would not have heard him if he was any further away.

"Anything," Spencer agreed.

"What would you have said if this hypothetical proposal was real?"

She froze, silently appraising his eyes with her own. His sapphire irises danced in anticipation, flickering back and forth across her face.

"I would have said yes," she decided at last. His face was closing in on hers, a mere few centimeters standing between them.

"So what if I said it _was_ real?"

She nodded slowly, a few tears trickling across the smile that grazed her lips. "Yes."

He emitted a noise of combined surprise and joy, lifting her into his arms to spin her around in celebration. She giggled happily into his neck as he did so.

"I love you so much," he stated.

"I love you too," she replied, her tears of joy free flowing now as she digested what had just taken place.

Upon setting her back on her feet, he immediately kissed her. She returned the kiss in desperation, committing her entire heart and soul into it. She nibbled on his bottom lip, seductively backing him against the bathroom wall. He moaned softly into her mouth as she pressed her body more tightly against his, running her fingertips down his stomach and toward the drawstring of his pajama pants.

"Are you sure?" he murmured into her lips.

"Positive," she replied. He trembled involuntarily, his hands traveling beneath her shirt and grasping at her back. He kissed her hungrily, beginning to push her shirt up and away, breaking the embrace only to pull it over her head. He lifted her easily, setting her on the bathroom counter and stepping between her legs. The thin fabric that separated his anatomy from hers caused her to shiver in pleasure, craning her neck back as he planted butterfly kisses on every inch of her bare skin. He paused at the hickeys on her breasts, touching them thoughtfully. An indiscernible emotion flickered across his face.

"They don't matter," she declared dismissively, yanking his shirt over his head and breathlessly pulling him closer. "I want new ones."

He squared his jaw, prepared to accept that challenge as he lowered his mouth to her chest, intent on reclaiming his territory. She moaned softly, burying her hands in his short hair and arching into him. He began trailing his fingers across her stomach, pulling her shorts away from her body. They tumbled carelessly to the floor beneath them. His gaze rose to hers once more, kissing various parts of her face in adoration.

"I hate that he did that to you," he muttered quietly.

She trailed her fingertips down the length of his temple, studying his azure eyes appreciatively. He turns his fact to meet her hand, his mouth planting small kisses on her palm.

"Make me forget," Spencer stated huskily. "Make love to me the way it should be done." She marveled at his naked body, curling her legs around his buttocks to close what little distance there was. She pulled his face to hers urgently to kiss him. His lips were eager but careful as they met hers once more, his fingers raking themselves through her hair. He was gentle in everything that he did, and that included making love.

The four months that threatened to approach with haste were somehow becoming more and more insignificant. There was no doubt in her mind that she would miss him, but knowing that he would come back to plan a wedding with her was the greatest comfort she could fathom. That in four months time, they would be looking only to the future on the horizon. That in a mere 120 days, he would be back with her, sketching out the rest of their lives.

And suddenly, nothing else mattered. Horny boys making unwanted advances were inconsequential. College classes could easily be tackled, for Spencer Hastings had graduated as valedictorian of her class. Her friends would be leaving once more, but she knew she could always count on them for support. Hanna's room was a mere wall away, and Aria and Emily could be reached at the touch of a button. They had proven to her this weekend that they would fly to her aid at a moment's notice. She loved them dearly for that and only hoped she would be able to repay the very generous favor someday.

Not even 'A' could have rained on her parade. She was going to marry the man that she adored, and nobody could stop her. No amount of stress or concern could possibly shatter the feeling of love and dedication she shared with Toby at this exact moment. She was suddenly grateful for every inch of his skin, roving her hands across his body without thought. His muscles tensed appreciatively under her touch, mutual desire swallowing both of them whole.

This was the way it was meant to be. Memories of Cody's carnal advances were fading quickly away as Spencer climaxed for the second time, pulling her fingernails greedily down Toby's back. He was becoming a distant thing of the past. Toby was very much her present and her future, and though she had no basis for comparison, she was sure he was undoubtedly the best love maker in the creation of the universe.

When he at last collapsed into her arms, breathing heavily, she caressed the back of his neck in loving adoration. The smile that was plastered her face could not be controlled.

"You're my everything," he murmured into her neck, softly kissing the skin where his lips rested.

She gently brushed her dangling hair from his face, leaning down to kiss his temple.

"I can't wait to be your wife."

_**TO BE FOLLOWED BY BRIEF EPILOGUE**_


	24. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

_It's a strange thing, but when you are dreading something, and would give anything to slow down time, it has a disobliging habit of speeding up. _

The passage echoed volumes in Spencer's brain for the final few days before Toby left. Much of their remaining time together was a blur of passionate endeavors and romantic dates, creating a whirlwind of memories that would assist in tiding her over. It had all begun to bleed together as one wonderful week from a romance film, complete with loving declarations and grand gestures. He had vowed to make the week as memorable and magical for her as possible, and he succeeded tenfold in his promise. She fell more in love with him that week, which had hardly seemed fathomable.

And throughout it all, the clock ticked down exponentially, as if challenging them to fit everything in before the hourglass ran out. However, with all that they had endured, she knew that time would prove to be inconsequential in comparison to what lay before them for the future.

Nonetheless, she knew she would miss him more than words could ever express.

Hanna and Holmes accompanied them to the Metro Detroit Airport. People were smiling as they passed, taking note of Toby's military uniform. Some stopped to shake his hands and thank him for his service, which only seemed to make him more embarrassed. Through that short walk across the airport, it became glaringly obvious that average citizens were often much friendlier to soldiers than they were to one another. Spencer found it both beautiful and sad at the same time, wishing silently that civilians could appreciate one another as much as they appreciated combat veterans.

After Hanna and Holmes concluded their heart-wrenching goodbyes, they bid Toby farewell and retreated back to the car to allow the couple privacy, granting Spencer to take all the time she needed.

She stood before him, her arms slung behind his neck, holding back the tears she knew would pour when he left. But for now, she had to be strong. He gently kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips, holding her close at the waist. And time, ever betraying them, was running out.

"I love you so much," he murmured in her ear, hugging her tightly to his frame. She could feel his body trembling with anxiousness. She was frightened, but she could not begin to fathom the extent of Toby's fears. It pained her to think of what he was about to endure a world away…the terrors he may witness, the dangers he may face. She tried to suppress her worries as she clung to him, afraid to watch him go.

"I'll be here for you when you get back," she whispered. A sob threatened to escape her throat, but she held it back meticulously.

The final boarding call rang through the PA. A shiver involuntarily ran down her spine.

He pulled back to gaze at her lovingly, stroking her face. "Nothing will keep me from coming home to you," he vowed. "I _will_ come back for you."

She smiled sadly, knowing deep down that this was a promise he could not possibly control. The conviction in his voice, however, was comforting all the same.

"Write to me," she pleaded softly.

"Every day." He leaned in to kiss her once more, pouring every bit of his heart and soul into the embrace. She concentrated on it with all of her might, dedicated to committing his touch to memory. The feel of his lips, the warmth of his breath on her skin, the scent of his body. She wanted to remember every piece of it, to be able to refer to the memory when times were darkest.

When he pulled away from her, the sudden cold that swept through her heart had nothing to do with his physical proximity. He clung to her hand as long as he could, staring her down with his piercing baby blue eyes. "I love you," he said one last time.

"I love you too," she replied fervently. As he entered the gates, he turned back to look at her once more. Her heart broke in her chest as she waved good-bye. He smiled sadly and continued until he was out of sight.

And then, she was alone. It didn't matter that people were bustling in all directions on every side of her…in her heart, the world stood still.

When at long last she tore herself from the spot she stood, she began to hurriedly walk back towards the car. Tears were pouring down her cheeks. Tears that she could not let him see before he left. The last thing she had wanted to do was increase any feelings of guilt he may have had for leaving her. She had to be strong for him.

People didn't seem to pay her any mind, despite the moisture that soaked her cheeks. She was silently grateful for this. She hated submitting to such feelings of vulnerability, and was all-the-more embarrassed to be falling victim to it in front of strangers. It was mind-boggling, really, that the pain in her heart was so reminiscent of the aching it had endured when she broke up with him in Rosewood. The only difference was that back then, she had no hope. This time – she did.

The walk back to the parking garage seemed to take an eternity, though it had felt so short with his hand clasped in hers. She began recalling the feel of his touch immediately to calm her anxiety, taking deep breaths. It was only four months. They had been apart for much longer. There was no reason she could not get through this.

And she had her friends…Hanna and Holmes stood casually by the Mazda, talking in undertones. She studied them for a moment, taking note of the way that Hanna nervously played with her hair, and the way that Holmes leaned against his car, staring off absently in the distance. This was hard for him too…Toby was his best friend…

And ultimately, they would be the people who would provide her the greatest support. They would be there for her in an instant, and would share her woes on some parallel level. Toby was leaving. But there, right before here, were two people that would never let her break.

"Well, that's that," she said aloud as she approached them. They both turned to her, looking somber.

"Are you okay?" Hanna asked quietly, scratching her fingernails comfortingly across Spencer's back.

Spencer smiled. It wasn't forced, like she would have expected it to be. She didn't have the fake it, which was something she had been prepared to do. It was a genuine smile that not even she would have predicted was possible. It was a smile of hope. Faith. Relief. Relief that saying good-bye was over, and that she would never have to do it again. All that remained now was the journey forward, and it came with a great deal of promise in its wake.

"Yeah," Spencer replied at last. "I'll be okay."

Hanna and Holmes smiled tentatively at her.

"He's a brave man," Holmes offered. "That'll get him through this. It'll get you through it, too."

"I know," Spencer agreed. He pulled the back door open for her chivalrously, to which she obliged. She curled up in her seat, feeling a sad sort of numbness. But she knew it would be all right. Everything would be all right.

Toby was right when he said they had already beaten the odds. They had found each other after all that time, despite the chances being one in a million. Their love had never changed – in fact, it only flourished.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

In truth, Spencer could not wait to see what it would feel like to love him even more than she already did.

"Have you eaten today?" Holmes inquired, pulling out of the parking spot.

Spencer shook her head vaguely. "No…haven't had an appetite."

"Well it's about time you put some food in your stomach!" Hanna quipped maternally. "We should really stop to get some lunch."

"Sure," Spencer agreed. She knew they were right. In fact, her stomach was rumbling on command at the prospect of food. She would need as much strength as she could get, after all.

"Do you have to do that?" Holmes demanded irritably as he batted Hanna's hand away from the radio tuner.

"I don't like this country crap," Hanna was whining.

"My car, my radio," Holmes stated territorially, turning up the volume to spite her. She groaned and pouted in her seat.

Spencer smiled. These were the little things that would get her through the next four months. Friendship…playful banter…Hanna and Holmes at one another's throats.

No problem. It would pass the time before she knew it.

She thought of his face as he entered the boarding gate. The determination in his eyes was enough to give her the faith she would need. She thought back to something he had said a few days prior, and exhaled a large sigh of relief as she allowed it to echo in her head over and over again.

_No matter where I am, my heart is always somewhere with you._

She didn't doubt it for a moment.

_In my heart_

_I'm always_

_**Somewhere with you…**_

…_On the beach last summer_

_When the rain came down and we took cover_

_Down in your car out by the pier_

_Laid me down whispered in my ear_

'_I hate my life_

_Hold onto me'_

_And if you ever decide to leave_

_Then I'll go somewhere with you_

_Kenny Chesney_

_**END**_

* * *

><p><em>Thank you everyone for all your loving kindness and support! A big hug and kiss to all of those who loyally reviewed almost every chapter, giving me inspiration to keep writing. <em>

_This chapter was a bit hard to write for me on a personal level. My husband deployed a year and a half ago and this reflected much of what I was feeling. I would not wish the despair on my worst enemy. Luckily he is home safe and sound now, and we are stronger than ever. _

_Look for the sequel soon! Please share any ideas you may have for it with me, so that I can create it to everyone's liking!_

_Peace, Love, Spoby._


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